180 Days of Love and Letters
by dancer4ver
Summary: "You can't hurry love. It will find you." Tired of hearing these words, Elizabeta Hédeváry embarks on a 6-month journey to find true love. With the help of a frying pan and her best friend, she struggles to prove that love is not a waiting game.
1. The Plan

Title: 180 Days of Love and Letters

Genre: Adventure/Romance/Humour

Rating: T

Summary: "You can't hurry love. It will find you." Tired of hearing these words, Elizabeta Hédeváry embarks on a 6-month journey around the world to find true love. With the help of a frying pan and her best friend, she struggles to prove that love is not a waiting game.

Pairings: Hungary/Germany, Hungary/Italy, Hungary/Romano, Hungary/Austria, Hungary/Spain, Hungary/France, Hungary/England, Hungary/America, Hungary/Canada, Hungary/Japan, Hungary/Russia

**A/N: **I really shouldn't be posting this. I have two other stories I'm currently working on but I was attacked by this plot bunny and just couldn't resist. Please enjoy~

* * *

_April 23__rd_

_Dear Roderich, _

_Today was graduation day but I don't feel like celebrating very much. Everyone keeps saying congratulations. What's there to congratulate? I spent the past four years doing nothing and now I have a degree that I don't even know what to do with. It's all very sad in my opinion. _

_But don't worry, I think I have an idea that will make everything a little bit better._

_Write soon!_

_-Elizabeta_

* * *

"Congratulations! We did it!"

Elizabeta Hédeváry dutifully clinked beer glasses with her best friend but couldn't bring herself to smile as he was.

"There's nothing to congratulate," She said as she leaned back onto the couch holding the bottle limply in her hands.

Gilbert downed his beer in 5 seconds and laid the now empty bottle aside. He burped triumphantly before turning back to his melancholy companion.

"What the hell are you talking about? We just graduated from college. Like this afternoon. What's not to congratulate?"

Elizabeta shrugged. "I don't know what to do next."

"We do what everyone else who was too lazy to apply to graduate school does , we get jobs (1)."

Elizabeta made a face. "And then what?"

"Um, that's it."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Elizabeta groaned and flopped heavily onto the floor. "But that's just depressing!" she said.

Her voice was muffled by the disgusting yellow shag rug that she had somehow allowed Gilbert to put in their apartment.

Gilbert slid onto the floor next to her, shocked by this display of dramatics. Awkwardly, he patted Elizabeta's head, half expecting her to bite his hand off.

"Um, there, there? Come on Liz, you know I'm not good with this sympathetic shit. Can we just get wasted and be depressed tomorrow?"

"I thought you were awesome at everything," Elizabeta muttered into the carpet.

"Only at stuff that counts."

Elizabeta raised her head off the floor to give him a withering look. "Well then, I guess my feelings just don't count. Fuck you Gilbert."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "That's obviously not what I meant. Are you PMSing or something? Is that why you're cranky?"

Elizabeta's face was back in the carpet. "No," came the muffled reply.

"Then why the bad mood?"

There was no reply for a few seconds until Gilbert heard something indecipherable from the floor.

"What was that?" He asked.

"I'm…" More muffled grumbling.

Gilbert leaned closer to Elizabeta's still form. "I still can't hear you. What was that?"

She sat up so suddenly that Gilbert was almost thrown back from the shock.

"I'm single!" She shrieked.

Gilbert stared at her before he burst out laughing. Elizabeta grabbed a pillow off one of the couches and proceeded to beat him with it until the seams ripped and they were both covered in fine downy feathers.

"Bitch." Gilbert picked a white fluff from his light hair. The colors were almost identical. "That was one of those fancy Swedish pillows."

"You mean from IKEA?"

"Shut up."

"Why did you laugh at me?"

"Because you're an idiot."

"Look at the pot calling the kettle black."

Gilbert picked another feather from behind his ear. "Whatever that means. Anyway, who a gives a fuck if you're single? I'm single."

"Because you don't even want a relationship!"

"So? Why do you? What's so great about them?"

Elizabeta's eyes took on a dreamy faraway look that made Gilbert want to retch.

"Don't you want someone you can talk to everyday about almost anything? When you go to sleep, they're there. When you wake up, they're there. Someone you can cuddle with, laugh with, and just be happy with?" she said.

"Isn't that us?"

Elizabeta glared at him. "This is completely different, trust me."

"Why now?" Gilbert picked the last feather off his pants and pulled himself back onto the couch. "You've spent the last four years shooting down every guy that has dared ask you out. The only guys you even talk to are me and that prissy pen pal of yours. Why do you suddenly want to be in a relationship?"

Elizabeta fidgeted with the flower she always wore in her hair before answering. "I don't want to do this alone," she said softly.

"Do what?"

Elizabeta spread out her arms. "This. Life. University is over. Hello real world. I can't go through all that by myself."

"You have the awesome me."

Elizabeta sighed. "Gilbert, you're my best friend but I'm looking for someone a little more…permanent…and not gay."

"Wait, are you looking for a boyfriend or a husband?" Gilbert almost choked when Elizabeta just shrugged.

"You know what you need to do, Lizzy, sweetie?" He said. "You need to finish your beer and then you need to get laid."

Elizabeta fired another pillow in his direction, completely knocking him the couch.

* * *

"OK, so here's the plan," Elizabeta said.

They had finally finished vacuuming the whole apartment and there was not a single feather in sight.

Gilbert came back from the kitchen with his 3rd beer. "I don't want to hear it."

"Sit down and shut up because you're going to." Elizabeta waited until Gilbert was comfortably seated across from her before explaining the idea that had been forming in the back of her mind for weeks. It had started off as a delusional fantasy born from finals stress but had quickly become an obsession she couldn't let go. She had mulled over it for hours every day until she finally decided that it had to be done or else she would go completely insane.

"When I was a kid my mum used to tell me that I couldn't hurry love; that I had to wait because it would find me. Well I'm done waiting. I think it's time to take matters into my own hands. I have enough money from babysitting to keep me going for the next six months and during these six months I'm going to travel around the world and find someone just for me. After all, love is an adventure, right?"

Elizabeta waited for Gilbert to speak, but he only stared wide-eyed at her until she thought that his brain had finally turned off for good.

"Um, hello? Earth to Gilbo. What do you think of my amazing plan?"

She leaned over and snapped her fingers in his face, causing him to finally blink.

"A-are you kidding me?" He sputtered. "You're going to do all that just to find some guy? Are you insane?"

"Maybe I am, but it doesn't matter. I'm going whether I have your blessing or not."

Gilbert took a long drink of his beer.

He was quiet until he said finally, "I'm coming with you."

It was Elizabeta's turn to stare. "What?"

"Like hell I would let you go by yourself. A naive girl like you in this big scary world? You need an awesome guy like me to protect you." Gilbert nodded. "Also, I have to make sure you pick a good guy. Sometimes I question your taste in men."

"Like who?"

"That pen pal of yours."

"Roderich? We're just friends."

"And make sure it stays that way. So when are we leaving?"

"_We_? I haven't agreed to bring you along."

Gilbert crossed his arms. "You can't really stop me."

"How are you going to pay?"

Gilbert tried to look innocent, but it came off as more conniving. "Weh-elll, I was hoping—"

Elizabeta cut him off quickly. "No. No. No. I worked hard for this money. I even gave up nights and weekends! You are not mooching off me this time Gilbert."

"Come on Liz! Just for a little bit. I'll get money from my brother! Oh yeah, that reminds me, where were you planning on going in the first place?"

"I haven't finalized the cities yet but I was hoping to get to Italy, Spain, France, England, America—"

"America? How the hell are you going to afford to go there?"

Elizabeta smirked. "I did _a lot_ of babysitting and, unlike you, I've been saving for years. Then Canada, Japan, Russia—"

"Why Russia?" Gilbert shuddered. There was something about that country that just wasn't right.

"Well it's on the way back and I just thought, why not?"

"So eight countries in total?"

"Maybe nine. I was thinking of stopping over in Austria to see Roderich."

"Gross. Hey, could you add Germany to the list? I need to stop over there to see my brother. He's been bugging me for weeks to come visit."

Elizabeta sighed. "Are you really coming along?"

Gilbert nodded. "I'm too awesome to be left behind. And if it's about money, I already said I can get some from Ludwig. The reason he wants me to visit is to sign a bunch of papers relating to our grandfather's will."

"Have they finally sorted everything out?" Elizabeta asked.

It had been six months since Gilbert's grandfather, the CEO and founder of one of the world largest car companies, had died suddenly in his sleep. Gilbert had dutifully attended the funeral despite his minimal connections with the man. When he had returned, all he had done was complain about how long the ceremony was and how his cousin Vash kept threatening to shoot him in the head with the BB gun he had smuggled in.

"And then they made all this fuss about grandfather's will and how they wouldn't be able to 'properly assess' it for like a year," Gilbert had said. "I don't even care. It's not like I'm going to get anything. He didn't even like me. Which is crazy because who doesn't like me?" At this, Elizabeta had turned away and refused to meet his eye, afraid that she would burst out laughing.

She had hoped that when everything was finally settled, Gilbert would at least get _something_. Even if it was just €500. She had already paid his part of the rent twice and a third time was likely.

"That's what Ludwig keeps saying," Gilbert replied now. "I don't really want to go but I'm tired of him clogging up my email inbox."

Elizabeta relented. "Fine. You can come along and we'll stop over in Berlin. But!" She pointed a threatening finger in Gilbert's direction. "If Ludwig doesn't give you any money and you don't get anything from the will, I am leaving your skinny ass in Germany. I am not piggy backing you around the world. Got it?"

"Whatever." Elizabeta stood up. "I-I mean, yes! I got it."

Elizabeta sat back down. "Good."

"So how long are we going to be staying in each place?" Gilbert asked.

"Well now that we have 10 countries to go through..." Elizabeta quickly did the calculations in her head, "we can afford to spend two weeks in each. That's about 140 days out of a possible 180 total. The other 40 days will most likely be traveling time or emergency days. You never know what could happen. Any days we have left we can spend wherever we like."

"This is actually starting to sound kind of fun," Gilbert admitted. "The traveling part. Not you finding a boyfriend, or husband, or whatever you want. When do we leave?"

"In 3 days. I already have most of my things packed."

"So that's why you bought all of those suitcases…Hey, hold on a second. Just how do you expect to communicate with people in all of these places?"

"Well be both know English, or at least I do."

"I only slept through one class!"

Elizabeta ignored Gilbert's outburst. "I took Italian for 3 years but French for only one. I'm a little worried about that."

It was Gilbert's turn to be smug. "Looks like you'll be needing me after all." He patted his chest proudly. "French major."

"More like minor."

"Shut up! I passed that last class!"

Elizabeta snorted. "If you call a C- passing."

"Fuck you. So we have German, English, Italian, French…what about Spanish?"

"I don't speak Spanish," Elizabeta admitted.

"Me either."

They were both silent.

"We'll deal with it when we get there?"

Gilbert nodded in agreement.

"Japanese?" He asked.

Elizabeta shook her head.

"We'll find a dictionary. Russian?"

"I know like 3 phrases, including how to say Merry Christmas."

"That's more than I know. Good enough for me." Gilbert rubbed his hands together excitedly. "This is going to be so awesome. I feel like Julia Roberts in _Eat, Pray, Love._"

"You were asleep for half that movie." Elizabeta stood up and stretched. She didn't want Gilbert to see how she was on the brink of exploding from happiness. And it was not because he was coming with her. "I'm going to head to bed now. You better start packing. If you wait until the last minute I'm leaving you behind."

"Yeah, yeah. You're such a nag. I'll start tomorrow."

"You better. Night Gilbert~"

"Night Liz."

* * *

_April 27th_

_Dear Elizabeta,_

_I'm sorry to hear that. You majored in Feminist Theory, did you not? I don't believe that is completely useless. I'm confident that you will be able to find a career suited to your skills._

_What is this idea that you have? I hope it's nothing dangerous._

_Sincerely,_

_Roderich_

_P.s. –Now that you have graduated, are we still pen pals?_

* * *

**A/N: **I think this will be fun to write. Let me know what you think! Also, now that I look back on it, I find it very strange that I had Elizabeta major in Feminist Theory XD To anyone who wants to major in that, btw, go ahead. I'm not insinuating that it's a useless major. I was actually thinking of majoring in Women Studies myself~

(1)- This is just Gilbert being Gilbert. I didn't mean this as an insult to anyone who didn't go a Grad school D:

One more thing to add. To anyone that hasn't seen/read _Eat, Pray, Love_, the main character's name is Elizabeth Gilbert. That's all I'm gonna say XD

_-_with love

dancer


	2. Germany: Day 1 -7

**A/N:** Thanks so much to everyone who provided feedback for this story, whether it was a review, an alert or a favorite. Please enjoy the chapter!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

_Germany_

_Day 1 - 7_

* * *

_May 1st_

_Dear Roderich,_

_Of course we're still pen pals. Considering the program ended 2 years ago, we haven't been 'official' for a long time. Me graduating isn't going to change anything._

_Thanks for the encouragement. I'll worry about career choices later though. I just started the journey of a lifetime. I know you're curious/worried but I'll tell everything when I get to Vienna. Yes, you read that right. I'M COMING TO VISIT YOU! It will be so nice to see you again. I hope this won't be a problem. Let me know! Write me back soon at this address:_

_XXXX_

_XXXX_

_Germany (1)  
_

_~Elizabeta_

_P.S. - Gilbert is coming too. Sorry!_

* * *

"Will Ludwig be meeting us at the train station?" Elizabeta asked after the speakers announced that they had 5 minutes until they reached Berlin.

Gilbert stretched in his seat. "No, he's at work, but what else is new? Actually, I have to go meet him and get those papers signed."

"So soon?"

"The quicker I sign them, the quicker I can get whatever grandfather left me…which is probably nothing."

Elizabeta frowned. "You better hope he left you something. So what am I supposed to do?"

"I'll call for one of the company cars to drive you to the house. Hopefully Ludwig doesn't make me stay too long. I hate offices."

"It will do you some good to do actual work."

Gilbert made a face. "No thank you."

He stood up as the train pulled into the station to grab their bags. He handed Elizabeta her own and they both joined the crowd of people eager to get off the train.

"I hate Berlin," Gilbert grumbled. "So damn packed."

Elizabeta had to agree. They had the misfortune of having arrived during the lunch rush hour and they could barely put one foot in front of the other as they struggled to escape the crowds in the station.

"I think some guy grabbed my ass," Gilbert said when they finally made it outside.

"I'm sure you liked it," Elizabeta said, now fully irritated. She adjusted the flower in her hair and tried to smooth her rumpled clothing into a presentable state.

Gilbert grinned. "Maybe just a little. Here's my ride," He said, just as a sleek black car pulled up to them.

"What about mine?" Elizabeta asked nervously. She had gotten lost in Berlin once when Gilbert, being himself, had suddenly decided that he wanted a bird and had abandoned her in one of the shadier districts of the large city. She had never forgiven him for leaving her for 2 hours to fend off potential rapists and thieves.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot."

Elizabeta glared at Gilbert as he made the belated phone call.

"Hey it's the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt speaking. I need a car to come to pick up a friend at Berlin Central Train Station. She's kind of short and will be the pissiest looking person in the crowd. You can't miss her. Thanks!" He snapped his phone shut. "They'll be here in 10 minutes. What's with the look?"

Elizabeta's scowl deepened. "You are such an asshole! And that was the worst description ever! They'll never find me!"

"Calm down. They know who you are. This isn't the first time they've picked you up. Anyway, I need to go now. I'll see you a few hours." Gilbert held out his arms. "Now, how about an awesome hug before I go?"

The only thing Elizabeta gave him was her middle finger and she refused to wave goodbye as the black car pulled away from the curb.

She pulled her light jacket tighter around herself. Even though it was the first day of May, it was still chilly in Berlin. She hoped whoever was picking her up had the decency to drive fast.

Elizabeta reached into her pocket and pulled out the folded letter she had written to Roderich while Gilbert had been sleeping on the train. She had purposely written it then to avoid any scathing comments from him. She unfolded the letter and quickly re-read it. She contemplated leaving out the information about Gilbert. Although the two had never met, Roderich always seemed to express a certain level of discomfort whenever she brought him up in their letters. Gilbert didn't even try to hide how much he disliked her pen pal. Elizabeta sighed and put the letter back in her pocket. At least there would never be a dull moment in Vienna.

"Miss. Hédeváry?"

She was startled at the voice and looked up to see a man in a dark suit standing by a black car similar to the one that had picked up Gilbert.

"Yes, that's me," she said quickly.

"I was sent by Mr. Beilschmidt to pick you up." The man held out a hand. "I can take your bags if you would like."

"Thank you very much," she said, handing him her suitcase. "I'm surprised you were able to find me with that description Gilbert gave you," she said as she slid in the backseat of the car.

The driver put her luggage in the trunk of the car and climbed into the front seat. "It was actually the younger Mr. Beilschmidt who gave me your description. I was lucky that he was present at the time."

"Thank goodness," Elizabeta said as they turned onto the main road. She had always liked Ludwig.

"How long do you plan on staying in Berlin, if I may ask?"

"Two weeks." She didn't bother including that she planned on spending them looking for a boyfriend; she didn't want him to get the wrong idea. He was a decent looking man, but not exactly her type. "The last time I was here I didn't get a chance to go to all the places I wanted to so I'm really excited to do some sight-seeing."

The driver nodded. "Berlin is a lovely, but very large city. If you would like, I can arrange for someone to deliver tourist brochures to you."

"Oh that's fine. I have Gilbert." From her spot in the backseat, she couldn't clearly see the drivers face, but she was almost certain that she saw something that resembled a smile flicker momentarily across his face.

"Of course," he said.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence, which Elizabeta greatly appreciated. It gave her a chance to take in the sights until finally, the tightly packed apartments turned into sprawling gated villas hidden by large groves of trees.

At times, Elizabeta still couldn't believe that Gilbert belonged to such an affluent family. At school, if you didn't know him well, like she did, you would never know. He was not a snob, although his arrogance and narcissistic attitude often bordered 'spoiled brat'. Elizabeta had realized some time ago that this behavior was less a result of his family's money, but more Gilbert…just being Gilbert. That was just the way he was. He could be penniless (and he often was when Ludwig refused to send him money) and he would still go around preaching his 'awesomeness' to the world.

The car stopped at large gate that stood in front of a long winding path that Elizabeta knew would lead to the house. The driver announced them into a speaker at the side of the gate and a few seconds later, the gate opened with a slight screeching noise to allow them to pass.

The trees that lined the worn path were just beginning to show their spring blooms and it was like driving through a blur of light pink and green as the car speed down the road. The house at the end of the path was large and beautiful. Gilbert had told her once that it had been built shortly after the end of World War II and she could see that the architect had mixed a little past with a little present in his design. White, with an eggshell blue tiled roof, the house was like a spring getaway.

"Here we are Miss. Hédeváry," the driver said, unnecessarily as they pulled into the circular driveway. "Let me get your bags."

She waited by the side of the car until he came around with her suitcases and then they both made their way to the front door. The driver rang the doorbell and they were soon let in by a young woman that Elizabeta remembered from her previous visit. The house was just as grand on the inside as the outside, if not more. Polished floors, tall glass mirrors, old portraits; it was everything that a house that cost millions of euros should look like.

"Well my job is done," said the driver behind Elizabeta. She reached into her purse to tip him but he shook his head.

"No need, Miss. Hédeváry. Mr. Beilschmidt already took care of it. You have a nice day."

She gave him a small smile and he nodded to the maid before exiting the way they had come.

"If you will follow me, Miss. Hédeváry, I can take one of your bags and then I can show you to your room," the young woman said. "It's nice to see you again."

"It's nice to be back. I can never get over how amazing this place is," Elizabeta said, handing her one of her smaller bags. She followed the woman up a winding staircase with a beautiful wooden railing.

"We actually just renovated the backyard," the maid said as they reached the second landing. She showed no signs of being out of breath and Elizabeta couldn't help but feel jealous as she panted softly.

_That's it_, she thought, _I'm never eating strudel again._ Luckily, they stopped at the second door in the hallway.

"And this is your room," the woman said. She opened the door to reveal a large room with a soft pink and green color scheme.

"This is the one I had last time," Elizabeta said. "Not that that's a bad thing. I really liked it." She added quickly.

The maid smiled. "Everything you need has been provided. If you require anything else, please don't hesitate to call using the phone."

"Thank you very much."

The woman gave a small bow and turned back down the hallway.

Grinning, Elizabeta closed the door of her room and threw herself onto the bed. Her apartment was cozy, but this was just sheer luxury.

"I could stay like this forever," she murmured aloud as she rolled around on the silk sheets. She yawned and decided that she would unpack later. There would be time to do some exploring before Gilbert came back.

"Maybe I'll even check out those renovations," she said softly before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

When she woke up hours later she found herself staring into a pair of dark eyes and the only thing that kept her from screaming was the hand that was clamped over her mouth.

Gilbert held up a finger to his lips. "If you scream like that you'll alert the whole house."

Elizabeta lashed out with her fist, successfully landing a blow just under Gilbert's left eye.

"Bitch," he groaned as he fell back onto the bed.

"You. Are. Such. A. Psychopath!" Elizabeta hissed angrily as she beat him with her silk pillow. "What kind of sane person pulls shit like that? Get out of my bed!"

"It was just a joke!" Gilbert whined as he rolled onto the floor.

"Well I'm not laughing!" She saw in the dim light that the skin underneath his eye was already beginning to darken.

_Good, _she thought, _I should have given him a black eye._

She was surprised when she checked the bedside table and found that it was almost 6:00 in the evening.

"I can't believe I slept so long," she said.

"That's what you get for staying up all night writing letters to your dumb pen pal," Gilbert commented from the floor.

"Shut up," Elizabeta snapped, annoyed that he had been awake after all. "When did you get back?"

"A few minutes ago." Gilbert jumped back onto the bed. "I can't believe Ludwig made me stay so long. It was a nightmare. You would think that they would all be happy to see me."

Elizabeta suddenly noticed the red blemish on Gilbert's forehead as he crawled up next to her. "What happened there?" she asked, pointing.

Gilbert scowled. "Vash," he said shortly.

"You must have deserved it," she said when he didn't elaborate.

"You suck."

"No, you," she replied childishly. "So, did you get anything?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? What did you just spend the last six hours doing?"

"I mean I got something, but I don't know what it is."

Gilbert waved an unmarked white envelope in her face.

"You haven't opened it yet?"

"I was waiting for you to wake up so that we could open it together."

Elizabeta was touched. "Really?"

Gilbert snorted. "No, not really. Ludwig said I couldn't open it until six because he had to get the accounts in order."

Elizabeta shoved him off the bed. "I really hate you sometimes."

"Fine!" Gilbert said. "I guess you don't want to see what grandfather left me."

"Get back up here this instant! We have two minutes." For the second time, Gilbert climbed onto the bed. "Can I see the envelope?"

"No peeking," he said as he handed it to her.

She could tell that he had obviously tried. The envelope was bent in several places and had even been ripped in a corner.

"Don't get your hopes up," Gilbert said as she turned the letter over in her hands, "It's probably just a note from Ludwig that says 'GET A JOB' in big red font."

"Well, we'll find out soon enough. So is your cousin staying here?"

"Thank God, no. He's going back to Switzerland tonight to do whatever tight asses like him do. You know, if it wasn't for the fact that he is insane, he would actually be kind of cute."

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "You're the last person to call someone insane."

"Whatever. It's six! Let's get this thing open."

Despite Gilbert's doubts, Elizabeta couldn't help but feel excited as he viciously ripped open the envelope. There were only two pieces of paper in the envelope. One was obviously a letter, but the second look liked…

"Is that a check?" Elizabeta asked quickly.

"Holy shit." Gilbert picked up the check and held it up to the light so that they could both see the number value.

For five seconds, Elizabeta couldn't breathe.

"Fuck," Gilbert said finally.

Elizabeta struggled to properly compose a sentence. "I thought…I thought you said he didn't like you."

"He didn't."

"Gilbert!" Elizabeta said louder than she intended. "You don't just leave 3.2 million euros to someone you don't like!"

They both stared at each other after she said this. Saying the number out loud somehow made it even more real.

"3.2 million," Gilbert whispered. He jumped to his feet. "3.2 million! Fucking 3.2 million!" He pulled Elizabeta to her feet and they both jumped up and down on the bed screaming.

"3.2 million!"

"3.2 million!"

"I'm set for life!"

"Now you can pay your rent!"

"Fuck that! We can get a whole new apartment!"

"With a view!"

"And a hot tub!"

"Espresso machine!"

"HD TV!"

Elizabeta fell back onto the bed. "Oh my God, Gilbert. 3.2 million. Do you know how much money that is? You could pay for this trip a thousand times over. Maybe more!"

Gilbert let himself fall down next to her. "So I have permission to come along now?"

"You can follow me to the moon if you like. Just bring that check with you. Wait, what about the letter? Read the letter!"

Gilbert grabbed the letter from where it had fallen on the floor.

"What does it say? What does it say?" Elizabeta asked excitedly.

"Hold your horses, woman." Gilbert quickly skimmed the letter. Elizabeta felt her heart skip a beat when she saw the grin slide off his face.

"What? What is it?"

"Fucking Ludwig….can you believe this? Not only does he have full control of my bank account, but I only have access to €5,000 a month. If I need any more I have to personally explain why to him. Lame!"

"But that's not a bad thing! That's still a lot of money! Obviously Ludwig knows you better than you think."

"But it's my money," Gilbert whined.

"Stop complaining. At least you got something. Now read the rest of the letter."

Grumbling, Gilbert turned back to the letter. "Well I guess it's not all bad," he said when he was done. "Not only do I get the money, but grandfather also left me his house in Spain."

Elizabeta almost swooned. "Did I ever tell you how happy I am that you're my best friend?"

"Don't be a kiss ass Liz. But at least we have a place to stay when we get to Spain. I kind of wish he had left me the house in Italy though…"

Elizabeta pinched him. "Don't be ungrateful! The man who apparently 'didn't like you' just left you €3.2 million and a whole house! Who cares where it is? What did he leave your brother?"

"Everything. He gave Ludwig the whole company."

Elizabeta whistled. "Damn. But what about the stock holders?"

"That's why it took so long to process the will. They wouldn't accept it. Technically, grandfather didn't have the right to give Ludwig everything, but before he died he had all the company holdings placed under my brother's name."

"Isn't that somewhat illegal?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Well he did it. Anyway, Ludwig has agreed to re-distribute the original shares, but only to the people he wants to."

"Did he give you anything?"

"2%. He's so cheap. He gave Vash 7%."

"Do you even know how much the company is worth?"

"A few billion."

"And he gave you 2%? Gilbert! He's made you even more stinking rich!"

"Yeah, but don't you think someone as awesome as me deserves at least 10%?"

Elizabeta smacked him over the head. "You. Are. A. Millionaire. Stop. Complaining."

Gilbert rubbed his head. "So I guess all my new wealth isn't going to stop you from using me as your punching bag."

Elizabeta smirked. "You could be the chancellor and I would still kick your ass. I still can't believe your brother owns the whole company. That's a lot of responsibility for someone so young. Didn't he just finish business school?" Ludwig was two years younger than Gilbert and only a year younger than herself and she was sure that she would have felt completely overwhelmed if she was in his position.

"Yeah but West will be fine. It just means more work for him and he practically gets off sitting in the office all day and attending boring meetings."

Elizabeta picked up the letter on the bed and re-read it, feeling only slightly jealous about Gilbert's new fortunes.

She set the letter back on the bed and asked, "So, what do we do now?"

"Well, I already have access to the first €5,000 from the check. I even get a bonus, so €10,000 total."

They were both silent.

"Elizabeta?"

"No."

"You know you want to."

"That money is for the trip."

"There's a Cartier boutique 20 minutes away from here."

"…"

"…"

"Damn you Gilbert Beilschmidt and your knowledge of my weakness for fine timepieces!"

* * *

"So what do you say?"

Elizabeta didn't tear her eyes away from the watch that now hung at her wrist. "Thank you Gilbert."

"Gilbert the Awesome."

"Shut up. How much money do you have left?"

"Well your watch cost a little over €5,000 and my shoes were about €3,000."

Elizabeta gasped. "You only have €2,000 left?"

"Probably a little less. I spent €500 on clothes for Gilbird."

"You bought clothes for a bird?" She shrieked.

"I have to keep the poor guy looking fashionable."

"I forbid you from spending any more money."

"But—"

"Don't make me call your brother."

Gilbert glared at her. "You're an evil woman. And after I bought you that watch."

"You practically owed me this after all the times I've had to pay your part of the rent. Give me your credit card."

"Do I have to?"

"I have Ludwig on speed dial."

Grumbling, Gilbert handed her the card to his new bank account. He watched sadly as she tucked it safely into her wallet.

"Now, time to do what we actually came here to do."

"Sight-seeing?"

Elizabeta glared at him. "No. We're here to find me a man."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that stupid plan. Let's go sight-seeing first."

"But you're from Berlin!"

"It's more fun when you're showing someone else around."

Elizabeta crossed her arms. "You're going to ditch me again."

"Will not. I promise. So let's drop these bags back at the house and get you into some decent clothes."

"What's wrong with my—"

"Everything. There's a new club in Schöneberg (2) that I've wanted to go to forever."

Elizabeta sighed because it was very unlikely that she would find a boyfriend in a gay club but then again, who was she to say no to cute guys grinding on each other?

* * *

Elizabeta scowled as she glanced at the map in her hands. She looked back at the street sign in front her. It was definitely not the street she was looking for. In fact—she looked back down at the map—she was about 15 minutes away from the street she was supposed to be on. Sighing, she refolded the map and shoved it back into her purse. It was the first day that she had decided to explore Berlin by herself and of course she had gotten lost.

She had spent the past week in the company of Gilbert but she soon realized that she would never have a chance to find her the man of her dreams if they kept going to clubs where half the men wanted to know where she bought her shoes and the other half pestered her for Gilbert's number.

So that morning she had set out while everyone else was still asleep, intent on finally beginning her search. However, it seemed now that she would be spending the rest of the day trying to navigate the many streets of western Berlin.

She stopped in front of a small clock making shop. It looked old and seemed out of place in the big modern city and this was what prompted her to go in to see if anyone could help her. The inside of the shop was cramped but she hardly noticed this. All along the walls were different types of clocks. Most looked handcrafted and whoever had made them had obviously put a lot of time and energy into doing so.

She picked up a small clock that was carved into the shape of a cozy looking cottage. Elizabeta though it resembled the type in fairytales about red-hooded granddaughters visiting grandmothers. She almost dropped it when out of the top window burst a small yellow bird.

"Is somewhere here?"

Feeling guilty for poking around, Elizabeta put down the clock and turned to the front counter."I'm sorry, I didn't mean to touch anything I was just..." She trailed off when she saw the man behind the desk.

"Elizabeta?"

"...Ludwig?"

* * *

_May 3rd_

_Dear Elizabeta,_

_I must admit that this is a very unexpected, but of course you are always welcome to visit. My only concern is that I have a music festival to attend in a few weeks and I hope that it is not during this time that you plan on arriving. Please let me know the exact dates as soon as possible._

_I look forward to hearing about this plan of yours. Knowing you it will probably be something grand and dangerous. Take care of yourself in Germany._

_Sincerely,_

_Roderich_

_P.S. - I have no problem with your friend attending but do inform him ahead of time of my house policies._

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, I'm a tease. Don't hate ;)

So I decided to split the chapters into weeks. This gives me the chance to add more detail and also keeps you guys from reading 10,000+ word chapters.

(1) The X's are meant to symbolize the address. I was a little worried about making up a random one.

(2) Schoeneberg is gay central in Berlin. I did a report (and a music video) on it in 11th grade and it sounds like an awesome place to visit no matter what your sexuality. For you history buffs out there, it was where JFK said his famous words "Ich bin ein Berliner". Tee hee /shot for being a nerd.

Next chapter is Germany, Week 2

-with love

dancer


	3. Germany: Day 7 -14

**A/N:** I'm I very very very sorry that this update is so long overdue. This chapter was exhausting to write and it took me forever to even get the whole thing planned out. Hopefully it's worth the wait. I'm not sure when I'll have the next chapter up. Exams are coming up and I have other fics to update OTL...

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed this story/favorites/etc. I love all the feedback. Enjoy!

**Extra Note:** I want to make something very clear right now. This fic will **not** end up as Prussia/Hungary or have any PruHun that is not part of their relationship as **best friends**_._ So don't waste your time wishing that Elizabeta might turn Gilbert straight. It ain't happening. Personally, I love gay best friend!Prussia. And so I shall write him like that.

I also got some reviews about whether or not Prussia will get a boyfriend. Weh-ellllllll...my lips are sealed ;)

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia :(**

_Germany_

_Day 7 - 14  
_

* * *

_May 8th, _

_Dear Roderich,_

_If everything goes according to plan, we should be in Vienna by May 29th. We would have been there sooner but we're going to be in Berlin a little longer than I originally planned. Oops! We're heading to Venice to on Friday. The address for the hostel we'll be staying at is at the bottom of this letter. Sometimes I think it would be easier if we just emailed each other, but obviously it wouldn't be as fun. There's just something classic about getting a letter...even though buying stamps can get annoying. _

_Berlin is amazing by the way. This city never gets old. I'll tell you all about it when I see you._

_- Elizabeta_

_p.s- I promise to make sure Gilbert is on his best behavior.  
_

* * *

"Sooooo…how long have you been working here?" Elizabeta asked. She was seated at the front counter of the store. Across from her sat Ludwig. The initial shock of seeing each other had passed and now Elizabeta only felt curious about why he was there.

"Actually, I own it. I bought it about four years ago."

Elizabeta's jaw dropped. "Really? That's amazing! But how come Gilbert never mentioned it?"

Ludwig's cheeks pinked. "Because he doesn't know. I couldn't buy the store using the business funds because it would show up when the yearly expenditures were processed so I had to use my own money. I don't really want anyone to find out about this place, especially not my brother. You're his best friend. You know how he would react."

"Maybe," Elizabeta said optimistically, "he wouldn't care. I mean, this place is really cool."

"This is Gilbert we're talking about. If he walked in here, the first question out of his mouth would be 'Are you gay?'"

Elizabeta laughed. "Yep, even though sometimes I can't believe it, you are definitely Gilbert's brother. You know him too well."

"More than he knows." Ludwig blushed again. "Do you really think this place is cool?"

"Are you kidding? It's amazing! Did you make all of these yourself?"

Ludwig nodded. "It started off as a hobby and I guess it just kind of got away from me. And thank you."

Elizabeta smiled. "You're very welcome. I must admit that I have a thing for fine timepieces and these are beautiful." She picked up a clock that had been carved into the shape of an apple. "Everything is so perfect, down to the very last detail. You are very talented, Ludwig." Her smile grew even wider when she saw the blush on his face darken. It was amazing really, the ways in which the two brothers were different. Gilbert was annoying but his energy was infectious. It was hard to sit still when around him. Ludwig was much more relaxed and Elizabeta liked this. It was nice to be around someone whose mouth wasn't running a million kilometers per minute.

"Thank you," Ludwig said again. "So are you enjoying Berlin?"

Elizabeta leaned against the counter top, her head in her hands. "I always love Berlin but it's just so _big_! The only reason I ended up in this store in the first place is because I got lost."

"Where were you trying to go?"

"Charlottenburg. I'm looking for a big place with a lot of different people."

"Can I ask why?"

It was Elizabeta's turn to blush. "I'm, uh, looking for a boyfriend," she said quietly.

"A b-boyfriend?" Ludwig stuttered. "In Berlin?" He said it as if it was the most preposterous thing on earth.

"Well it wasn't my first choice. The only reason I'm here is because Gilbert needed to get his money. My original plan was to go to Italy first."

"To find a boyfriend?"

"Yes." Elizabeta could tell by Ludwig's face that he wasn't sure what to think of this. "Ok, let me explain." She quickly outlined her plan and when she was finished, there was less confusion in Ludwig's face although there was skepticism now too.

"You always seemed like the type of person who wouldn't have any trouble finding a boyfriend." Elizabeta raised an eyebrow and Ludwig quickly added, "I mean, you're very attractive—I'm sorry that makes me sound like a pervert, which I'm definitely not! Uh, what I'm trying to say is that, well…"

Elizabeta burst out laughing at how red Ludwig's face had become. "It's okay, I get it. Thank you."

Ludwig sighed, relieved that he had not been misunderstood. "It's just a surprise that you would have to go on such a trip in search of a relationship," he said.

"The thing is, I'm excited to go. I get to see the world and I could find true love. I think that's a pretty good deal."

"And you're taking my brother with you?"

Elizabeta made a face. "Again, not part of my original plan. He pretty much invited himself. I was going to dump him here if he didn't get any money from you, but now it seems like we're stuck together." She didn't sound too upset when she said this because she was still secretly pleased that she would not have to go globetrotting by herself. "So far he's been less than helpful. This past week all we've done is shop and hang out in Schöneberg."

Ludwig narrowed his eyes. "Shop?"

Elizabeta realized what she had revealed and mentally kicked herself. "W-well not really shop! Just, you know, hang around stores—window shop! Yeah, no spending money for us. No way." It wasn't a complete lie. Elizabeta still hadn't given Gilbert his credit card back but had allowed him to withdrawn €150 so that they could get matching jackets with their names emblazoned on the back. If the jackets hadn't been extremely stylish and comfy she never would have let him. After that they had mostly just wandered in and out of random stores. Thankfully, Ludwig seemed to believe her.

"That's good. Gilbert should know that his funds are limited and that I'm not giving him anything extra," he said.

"Oh he knows alright. Don't worry about that. I'm keeping a sharp eye on him." Ludwig gave her a small smile and Elizabeta felt horrible for lying to such a sweet person.

"Thanks. I'm always glad that you two are friends. You're a good influence on him."

Elizabeta forced a smile, feeling guiltier by the second. "I do my best," she said.

"If he gets to be too much trouble on your trip, don't hesitate to send him back here. Honestly, I wish he had told me earlier about this plan. I thought that now he was done with school he would come to work with me."

"I don't think business is really Gilbert's thing."

"I agree but he has to do something."

"With his new inheritance I think I can safely say that he can live comfortably for the rest of his life without having to lift a finger."

"That's not the point. It's not about the money, it's about him doing something productive. Is there anything that he likes? Anything that he does that makes him happy?"

"Shouldn't you know?"

Ludwig looked away. "All my life I've known what was expected of me. I knew what I wanted and I got it. Gilbert…I don't know. He's forever changing his mind. The fact that he stayed the full four years at the university is amazing to me."

"Well he did change his concentration about five times," Elizabeta said.

"But he stayed and I thought that maybe…maybe he would finally decide what he wanted."

"But he does know what he wants. He wants to live an easygoing life and be happy. It's not about getting a fancy job but Gilbert being able to be Gilbert. He likes his life the way it is."

"It looks like you know him better than I do." Ludwig said. He frowned. "But how can he be happy doing nothing?"

Elizabeta looked down at her hands. "To him, 'nothing' is 'something'. It' like your situation here. Some people—Gilbert included—might think of this shop as nothing."

"But it is nothing, nothing except a hobby."

"But it makes you happy right?" Elizabeta looked up and saw Ludwig's face change as the answer dawned on him.

"Yes…yes it does," he said.

"Maybe Gilbert will get a good job he likes but until then, he'll stay the way he is. I don't think we can ask anything else from him except that he stays safe."

"You're amazing," Ludwig said suddenly. "Really."

Elizabeta blushed and tilted her head down so that her hair fell across her face. "Thank you."

Silence descended on the shop as they both wondered what to say next.

Ludwig spoke up first. "Do you still need to get to Charlottenburg? I can give you directions."

"Um, no. That's alright. I can always go tomorrow. How much longer will you be here?"

"Probably not long. Monday's are usually slow days."

"They won't miss you at your office?"

"No. I regularly take off every other Monday as well as Wednesday and Sunday afternoons. It was lucky that you chose today to come in here."

"I think so too. Are you going home after this?" Ludwig nodded.

"Would it be okay if I went with you? I don't want to get lost again."

"N-no. It's fine. It would be nice to have the company. Actually, I can probably close the store up now. I don't think anyone else is going to come in today."

"Can I help?"

"There's not much to do. I just have to arrange a few boxes in the back. I'll meet you at the front door in a few minutes."

"Okay," Elizabeta said. Ludwig disappeared into the back room. She picked up her bag and slowly made her way to the door, pausing on her way to admire more of Ludwig's work. One piece that caught her eye was a depiction of what looked like 'Alice in Wonderland'. There was a girl in a blue dress—Alice—chasing after the ever elusive white rabbit, whose famous pocket watch had been enlarged to become the central clock. The pair were running through a thick, lush forest that was populated with various flora. Bright flowers that shimmered and gleamed in the late afternoon light and trees with leaves so green and full that they looked real, filled the scene. It was such a captivating work of art and Elizabeta couldn't help but feel a little bit like Alice—chasing after something extremely difficult to catch in a foreign, and slightly frightening, land.

"No," she said out loud, "I'm better than her." No one ever knew the reason why Alice was chasing the white rabbit, other than a case of extreme curiosity. "I know what I'm looking for. I know what I want."

"What?" Elizabeta jumped about a foot in the air before turning around, embarrassed, to see Ludwig standing behind her, all ready to leave.

"Don't scare me like that!"

"What do you want?" Ludwig asked.

Elizabeta hadn't realized that he had been asking a question and was even more embarrassed that he had overhead her.

"I want to find true love," she said finally.

"It won't be easy."

Elizabeta grinned. "It's worth it."

Ludwig smiled as he held open the door for her. "If you say so." He flipped off the lights in the store and closed the door behind himself. "I…I don't know if you're interested but there's an ice cream shop on the way back. I don't know if you like ice cream but it's kind of a warm day and I was just wondering, but if you don't I understand and…ugh, I'm just going to stop talking now."

Elizabeta laughed. "Relax, Ludwig. It's just me. And I would love some ice cream."

Ludwig sighed. "Sorry, I'm not usually like this," he said, locked the door to the shop.

"No need to apologize. And there's nothing to be nervous about. Now tell me, does this place have _Spaghettieis(1)?_"

Ludwig grinned. "Of course." Elizabeta grinned back, the prospect of _Spaghettieis_ only part of the reason she suddenly felt so happy.

* * *

"Where have you been all day?" Was the first thing out of Gilbert's mouth when Elizabeta and Ludwig stepped into the house.

"Aww, did you miss me?" Elizabeta asked.

"Yes, because there was no one here to make me lunch. Patricia had a stomach ache. Are cooks even allowed to get stomach aches? What did she eat?"

Elizabeta scowled. "You're such a brat. I was doing what I initially wanted to do. Remember? Searching for a boyfriend?"

"Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting about that stupid plan. But what are you doing with West?"

"We, well, uh, we—"

"I took the train home from the office and walked here. I met Elizabeta on the way." Ludwig said smoothly. Elizabeta was grateful for his quick intervention.

"Cool," Gilbert said. "So who's going to make me dinner? I just ate the last bag of crackers and we're out of pretzels now too." Elizabeta rolled her eyes.

"I'm tired. Let's order in tonight," Ludwig said.

"Really?" Gilbert said excitedly. "You never let me order in!"

"Because you always order too much and you never pay."

"Why should I be the one to pay? You're the one in control of a company worth billions, West. So I'm going to get Chinese."

"We don't get a say?" Elizabeta asked.

"No," Gilbert said over his shoulder as he went back into the kitchen.

"Damn him," Elizabeta said. "Sometimes I can't stand him." Ludwig nodded.

"And somehow we still care for him."

"We must be crazy."

* * *

Elizabeta lowered her sunglasses so that she could get a better view of her target. She adjusted the newspaper and flipped to a random page. She pretended to look interested by the headline before glancing back at her target. He was still sitting at the table. Alone.

_Perfect_, she thought to herself. He was sitting down but she guessed that he was at least six feet tall—probably more. His un-styled, dark blond hair fluttered lightly in the breeze and she could only guess that a pair of beautiful blue eyes was hidden behind the sunglasses on his face. Visually, he was an 11/10 and in Elizabeta's opinion, the perfect place to start her search. She lowered the newspaper and practiced her introduction once more in her head. Just as she made a move to stand up, a tall woman with lovely dark skin and the most beautiful hair that Elizabeta had even seen, approached her target's table. The two embraced, _kissed_ and then sat down. And with those three actions, completely destroyed Elizabeta's plan.

"Damn it." She whispered to herself. That was the third one today. "Is anyone in this city single?" Everywhere she looked happy pairs walked arm in arm down the street. Even Elizabeta's most practiced evil eye did nothing to alter the aura of happiness that surrounded the couples. She almost wished that Gilbert was there to provide a sarcastic comment. Fortunately or unfortunately, Gilbert had left for Switzerland that morning after his cousin had called the night before and asked to see him. This had been a surprise to the whole household—to Gilbert more than anything.

"He's going to do terrible things to me. I know it." Gilbert had whined after sharing the news. "He's going to strap me to a wooden post and use me for target practice!"

"Only if you say something stupid," Ludwig had said.

"Which you probably will," Elizabeta had added.

Gilbert had begged Elizabeta to go with him but she had adamantly refused. She had wasted enough time with him already and was not going to spend another day in Berlin without finding at least one prospective boyfriend. But now it seemed that she might have had better luck going to Switzerland. She could have at least flirted with Gilbert's cousin.

Elizabeta sighed and set her sunglasses down on the table. Germany hadn't originally been one of her intended stops so it wasn't horrible if she didn't meet anyone there but now she was beginning to realize that finding true love was going to take a lot more work than creepily scoping out guys at random cafes.

"Excuse me, miss?" Elizabeta turned around and her heart nearly stopped beating. Above her stood an Adonis. Bright blue eyes, casually tousled dark hair, and a playful smile. He was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen.

"Y-yes?" she gasped. _Jackpot!_ She thought to herself.

The man smiled, displaying a row of straight, white teeth. "I was just wondering if you were ready to order."

Now Elizabeta really wish Gilbert had been there because she was suddenly overcome by the urge to do physical harm and he would have been the perfect outlet for her rage. Struggling not the scream, she forced a smile.

"Actually, I don't think I'm going to have anything. Thanks." She picked up her bag and slipped on her sunglasses and stomped out from under the large umbrella that covered the patio of the café. She didn't have any particular direction in mind so she just let her feet go wherever they wanted. As she walked she let her mind wander and was thus unaware of the admiring glances sent her way and the men who paused to stare at the lovely girl all by herself in west Berlin.

It wasn't until Elizabeta reached the end of the street that she realized where she was going. If she continued the way she was going, with a few twists and turns here, maybe a trip on the S-bahn, she would eventually reach Ludwig's shop. But it was Tuesday and she knew Ludwig was at work because she had seen one of the company cars pull away from the house that morning before she left. She wanted to talk to him again, to smile with him—she just wanted to see him; a familiar, friendly face among the never-ending flow of people.

Elizabeta sat down on the edge of a small fountain and sighed, feeling so lonely that suddenly all the excitement of the day vanished. The sound of creaking wheels caused her to look up and she saw a man pushing a wooden cart down the street. On top of the cart was a small cage that held a white rabbit. This reminded Elizabeta of the clock from the day before. Alice didn't just give up the chase after the first few meters. She kept going.

Elizabeta stood up and marched all the way back to the café. She located the waiter from before and promptly asked him if he wanted to have dinner that night. He agreed.

* * *

Gilbert had already made his way through half the stack of toast when Elizabeta wandered into the kitchen the next morning.

"Hey," she mumbled as she took the seat beside him, "how was Switzerland? Judging by the fact that you're still here, Vash didn't blow you up."

Gilbert grunted and grabbed another piece of bread from the shrinking stack. Elizabeta suddenly noticed that he had a ski hat pulled over his head, despite how warm the morning was. She reached up and ripped it off.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Gilbert shrieked, his hands flying to his forehead, but not before Elizabeta saw the giant welt that graced the center of it. It was even larger than the one before.

"You idiot," she said, throwing the hat at his face, "what did you do to him?"

Gilbert covered his head once more. "I didn't do anything…I just took a picture! That guy has no sense of humor. At all."

"No, you just never know when to stop joking. Serves you right!"

Gilbert stuck his tongue out at her before getting up from the table.

"So why did your cousin ask you to visit?" Elizabeta asked.

"That's top secret," Gilbert said as he rifled through the fridge. "Just kidding. Ludwig told him that we were going to Italy and he wants me to do him a favor." Gilbert slammed the door of the fridge and plopped back down at the table. "It's weird cause I don't remember telling West about our plan."

Elizabeta grabbed a piece of bread and stuffed it into her mouth. "You probably did," she said between bites, "you're just too stupid to remember." She looked over when she heard the hiss of a bottle being opened.

"Come on Gilbert! Beer for breakfast?"

"I'm really thirsty!"

"This isn't our apartment where we never have food. This kitchen is huge and there are plenty of things to eat and drink. Look at this beautiful breakfast! We've even got fresh fruit!"

"I'm not in the mood for grapes," Gilbert said, taking a drink from his beer. Elizabeta picked up a grape and threw it at his head.

"Maybe if you were in the mood more often you'd have arms like your brother," she said. She recoiled when Gilbert spit out half the beer in his mouth. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What the hell is wrong with _you_? Why were you checking my brother out?"

Elizabeta blushed. "I-I wasn't! It was just a passing observation!"

"Yeah, right."

"Shut up. Anyway, I had a date last night," Elizabeta said, quickly changing the subject.

"Really? Is that why you got back so late?"

"You creep! You were awake?"

"I had to go pee."

"You were probably trying to pull another prank on Ludwig."

"Nu-uh. He locks his door now," Gilbert said. Elizabeta rolled her eyes.

"So was this guy 'the one'? Is he curled up on your bed upstairs?"

Elizabeta snorted. "No and no. He was a nice guy but just too…meh for me."

"'Meh'? What does that mean? He was boring?"

"Not boring, just…meh. Nothing special. He has a mom, dad, two sisters, a dog, he graduated from a good university two years ago and is saving up money to go work on a nature preserve somewhere in Africa."

"That's what you consider 'meh'?"

"Don't give me that look! And it was only my first date. I still have nine more countries to visit. Besides, he told me he broke up with his ex-girlfriend three months ago after they were together for a year. Obviously, that's much too soon to begin seeing someone new."

Gilbert shook his head. "I'll never understand you. So what happened?"

"It was just dinner. Afterwards I told him that I thought that he was a nice guy but I didn't think we had much in common."

"You are an ice cold woman. What did he look like?"

"He was gorgeous. Beautiful dark hair and the most amazingly blue eyes."

"And you let him go?" Gilbert said, outraged. Elizabeta frowned.

"It's not all about looks. I want someone who I feel a connection with. I felt nothing with this guy."

"You could have at least sent him my way."

"Oh stop it. As if you need me to hook you up with someone."

Gilbert downed the last of the beer and tossed the bottle into the trash. "You're right," he said. "I'm awesome enough to get guys on my own." He ignored the dirty look she sent him. "Anyway, it's good that you've finally gotten started. What's our plan for today?"

Elizabeta shook her head. "No, not _our_ plan. _My_ plan. I'm heading out solo again."

"What? You can't just leave me here! Why can't I come along?"

"Because no guy is going to want to approach me with you hovering around!"

"I'll stand apart from you. We can even pretend that we don't know each other!"

"Sorry Gilbert, but this is something I have to do alone. You can come along next time. " She raised an eyebrow when she realized that he was staring at her. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

A wide smile appeared slowly on Gilbert's face and Elizabeta felt her heart skip a beat. She knew that look.

"You're hiding something," Gilbert said.

"Am not!" Elizabeta hoped that she wasn't red.

"Yes you are! Your ears are turning pink! Lizzie's got a secret!" Gilbert scooted his chair closer to her. "Cough it up missy!"

Elizabeta moved herself away. "I don't have any secrets!"

"It's a guy, isn't it? I can tell. A romantic rendezvous? It would explain why you're not upset after your fail date."

"My date wasn't fail! I already told you it was 'meh'. I just need another opportunity to find a guy without you flirting with everyone that so much as looks my way."

Gilbert pouted. "I do not flirt."

"You are the worst attention whore I've ever met."

"You're just jealous. And stop changing the subject! I want details. Name, age, hair color—have you slept with him? Is he good in bed?" With a huff, Elizabeta stood up from the table.

"I'm going to go get dressed!" She snapped over her shoulder. "You can stay here and keep coming up with stupid theories."

"Now I know you're hiding something!" Gilbert said, his annoying laughter taunting Elizabeta as she stormed out of the kitchen.

* * *

She hadn't told Ludwig that she would be stopping by and Elizabeta hoped that he wouldn't think her annoying. It was just that she liked Ludwig's company and had so many things to ask him. She wanted to know how he had got into making clocks. Who taught him how? Where did he get enough money to open up a whole store? These questions and more buzzed around Elizabeta's head as she made her way to the shop. True to her word, she had left Gilbert back at the house. When she had left he had still been creating crazy scenarios about her and her mysterious secret lover. She wondered what he would say if he knew that it was his brother that she was going to see. She winced. Actually, she didn't really want to know.

Elizabeta was still clueless about how to get around the large city, but she easily found her way to the clock store. She took a deep breath before swinging open the door. She nearly collided into an elderly man who was making his way out. Embarrassed, she quickly apologized and slipped into the store.

"I'll be right with you!" Ludwig's voice came from the back.

"That's fine. I don't need to be helped!" Elizabeta said. She heard the sound of something falling and someone swearing before Ludwig stepped out from behind a display case.

"Elizabeta? What are you doing here?" he asked. Immediately, Elizabeta felt her face grow hot. That was a good question.

"I was…I was on my way to Spandau and I thought I would just stop by and say hi and um, thanks again for the ice cream. You didn't have to pay."

"It was my treat. But you do know that Spandau is the other way, right?" Elizabeta knew that she deserved this. This was what she got for being unable to properly read a map. Quickly, she lied through her teeth.

"Is it really? I could have sworn it was in this direction. But, um, yes," she shifted nervously from foot to foot, "I very much enjoyed talking to you yesterday and was hoping that, if you weren't busy, we could…keep talking." The next time Gilbert called her an idiot, Elizabeta was going to agree with him. The fact that those words had come out of her mouth made her the biggest idiot in the world.

Now Ludwig was looking nervous and it took him a few seconds before he could find a reply. "Well, you see, er…the thing is—"

Elizabeta decided to spare both of them embarrassment. "It's okay if you're busy. I'll just see you back at the house." She turned to leave.

"Wait!" Ludwig said. Feeling the faintest flicker of hope, she turned back around. "You don't have to leave. Sorry, you really caught me by surprise. I was just working on an order and I have a delivery in twenty minutes."

"A delivery?"

"Not all of my customers can make it to the shop when it's open so, sometimes, I take their orders to them. The place is only about fifteen minutes away and it shouldn't take long if you're willing to wait. B-but you don't have to."

"Can I come along?"

"You're welcome if you would like."

Elizabeta smiled. "Great! So what are you working on? Can I see it?"

"It's nothing much. It's in the back. You can follow me." Ludwig led her to a door at the back of the store and unlocked it to reveal a small workshop.

The floor was lightly covered with wood shavings and random clock pieces covered the work bench. "This is where I make everything. Sorry if it's a bit cluttered."

"No, it's lovely," Elizabeta said. She pointed to a block of wood at the end of the bench. "Is that what you're working on?"

"Yes," he picked it up and showed it to her so that she could see that he had already begun to faintly sketch in the designs. "I just got the order this morning."

"What's it going to be?"

"A hat."

Elizabeta raised an eyebrow. "A hat."

"A top hat to be specific. The woman who placed the order said her husband collects them."

"To each his own," Elizabeta said. There was a spare stool at the side of the room and she brought it over to the bench. "Don't let me being here stop you from working. Go on. I would love to watch."

"I'll tell you now. It's a long, boring process. I probably won't get much done by the time we leave."

"I don't care. I've never seen a clock being made before." Ludwig smiled and Elizabeta felt the little bubble of happiness in her chest expand.

"If that's what you want," he said, before taking the seat next to her.

"How long does it usually take for you to finish a clock?" she asked.

Ludwig turned the block of wood over in his hands, found where he had left off and began tracing lightly over the surface with a pencil. "It depends on what I'm making. I should be done with this in about a week, but bigger projects take longer. Like that clock you were looking at the other day, the one with the girl and the rabbit?"

"The _Alice in Wonderland_-esque one?"

"Is that the name of the book? I made that one years ago and couldn't remember the inspiration. Anyway, yes, something like that can take anywhere from a month to three or four months."

"I'm not surprised. The detail and the colors were amazing. But they would probably take less time if you were more days off."

Ludwig nodded. "It's difficult enough taking these days off. I don't know how much longer I can do this, especially now that I'm officially in charge of the company. I might only be able to work here on Wednesdays."

An interesting thought suddenly dawned on Elizabeta. "This place is supposed to be a secret, right?" Ludwig nodded. "What about your customers? Don't they recognize you?"

"If they do, they haven't said anything. The people that come in here probably wouldn't care if I was the chancellor. It's nice though. And very peaceful."

"How long did you say you've been working here?" Elizabeta asked. Ludwig paused as he searched for the answer to this question.

"Four? Five years? I think a little over four. Like I said, it started off as a hobby to get my mind off paperwork and it just became…well this place. What's odd is that I don't particularly enjoy making clocks. I find it exhausting and irritating."

"Then why do you keep making them?"

"Because I like the end product. It's what I work for. Getting there might be a little rough, but it's worth it in the end."

"I had a date yesterday night," Elizabeta said before she could stop herself. It was such a non sequitur but she had to get if off her chest. She smiled to herself when she saw Ludwig's hands pause for the fraction of a second before he continued his sketching.

"How did it go?" he asked.

"Fine, but I won't be seeing him again."

"Really? What went wrong?"

"Nothing went wrong, he was just…'meh'."

"'Meh'?"

"It's a real descriptive word!" Elizabeta protested. "It's not that he was bland or boring, but all I saw was a pretty face and a nice background. Some people might be happy with that but I'm looking for something more. The problem is, I know what I want but I don't know how I want it. I mean, I don't have a list of criteria for my true love—well I guess he should be handsome and smart and have a good job—but I just had this feeling, or should I say lack thereof, that that guy just wasn't right for me." Elizabeta sighed. "Tell me the truth, Ludwig. Do you think this plan is destined to fail because I don't have a clear goal in mind?"

"Well, I don't think that I'm the best person to ask for advice but maybe this will help. Three times a year I have this woman come in and place an order for a clock. And each time I ask her what she wants, she gives me a one word answer. The first time she said she wanted something 'exotic'. She was here a few months ago and asked for something 'charming'. I can tell by her face that it's obvious what she wants. She has an image in mind but she hasn't filled in all the details. Not because she doesn't want to, but because she doesn't know what those details will be until she sees the clock. I don't know what to make either. I spend weeks brainstorming and I waste so many materials going through different designs but then I eventually find one that just fits her description. I'm not sure how I know, I just do. So I guess what I'm saying is that you don't have to spend too much time on specifics. You'll know when you find the right person."

"Like love at first sight? But that's so cliché and unrealistic."

"Maybe not at first sight. I don't always like designs when I start them or I might not think much of them, but after some time, I'll know that they were the right choice. I'm sorry, comparing clock making to finding love isn't very helpful."

"Actually…it is," Elizabeta said, her optimism renewed. "Thank you. I feel better now."

"I'm glad I could help."

"What about you, Ludwig? I only ever see or hear about you in business journals, tabloids or from Gilbert. Have you ever been in love? No, I'm sorry, that was too personal. You don't have to answer that."

"I haven't," Ludwig said. "I'm always busy and don't have much time for social activities. But sometimes I like to think that if I met the right person, I would make time for them." He blushed. "But I guess I just haven't met them yet. You can see that I'm the last person you want to ask for relationship advice. Has my brother told you anything useful?"

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "Gilbert thinks this whole plan is a big joke. In his opinion, I just need to get laid. He's the last person I would go to for advice in this situation."

Ludwig sighed. "As expected. Maybe he can learn a little something about love on this trip."

"Gilbert? Love? Hah! We both know that the only reason he's coming along is for his own personal gains. He could care less about love." Just then an alarm went off in the other room.

"Time's up," Ludwig said. He put down his pencil and went to shut off the beeping.

"What was that for?" Elizabeta asked when he came back.

"If I don't set an alarm, I have a tendency to miss my delivery appointments when I get too involved in my work. This way I can stay on schedule."

"Punctuality is a very admirable trait."

"Yet another thing I wish my brother had. Are you ready to go?" he asked.

Elizabeta leapt up from her seat. "Yeah." She traced a finger over the clock-to-be. "You didn't even get to carve anything."

"Technically, I didn't even do anything. Twenty minutes isn't enough time to do much and I'll probably erase everything Sunday." Elizabeta followed Ludwig out of the workshop.

"Can I keep watching after we get back? Unless you have something else to do?"

"Yes to the first question, no to the second. This delivery should be my last customer of the day. Hold on." Ludwig went behind the front counter and came back with a medium sized package. "Ok, we can go now."

"Do you make a lot of deliveries?" Elizabeta asked when they were on the main street.

"I prefer not to, but the woman who ordered this has six children with the oldest being only ten. Even a fifteen minute walk in both directions is too long to be gone from the house when there's no one else around."

"That is extremely kind of you. Are you sure you're Gilbert's brother?" Conversation flowed easily as they walked and Elizabeta wondered why it had taken her so long to get to know Ludwig. During university breaks, she had always spent one or two days with Gilbert and in the summer she spent at least a week in Berlin. But even though they had always been cordial to each other, she and Ludwig had never been in each other's company for more than a few minutes. She had always been with Gilbert and he had always been working. She wondered if the universe was sending her some sort of message by bringing them together when she was supposed to be on a journey to find true love.

Ludwig finally stopped in front of a house so small that Elizabeta couldn't believe that even one child could live there, let alone six."This is the place," he said.

Elizabeta looked around and saw that many of the houses in the area looked similar—small and grubby. This was definitely a change of scenery from what she had been experiencing for the past week. She could hear the sound of a baby crying from the other side of the door and children screaming and shouting. When Ludwig knocked on the door it sounded like an approaching stampede. The door flew open to reveal four children all fighting to be the one to greet the visitors.

"I got here first!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Mom! Mom!"

"Can you guys shut up?" A boy who looked about ten suddenly appeared at the door to break up the squabbling. "Hi Ludwig," he said.

"Hi Peter. I have your mom's order."

"Cool. That will make her happy. Mom! Ludwig's here! And he has a girl with him!" The boy turned back to Elizabeta and Ludwig, oblivious to how embarrassed both of them were. "And she's pretty too!"

"Ludwig and a pretty girl? I have to see this." A short woman with a kind, heavily lined face stepped into the doorway. "Now I want all of you back in house. Go!" Although they whined about being sent away, the children quickly dispersed until only the woman was left at the door.

"Sorry about them. They love visitors," she said.

"It's always nice to see them again. Here's your order." Ludwig handed her the package.

"I can't thank you enough for this."

"It's no problem."

The woman winked at Elizabeta. "You're a lucky girl. He might try to hide it, but this one has a heart of gold."

Elizabeta blushed and she and Ludwig spoke up at the same time.

"We're not—!"

"He's not—!"

The woman laughed. "Oh I see, I see. I apologize. You just look so sweet together!"

Elizabeta didn't dare look over at Ludwig but she imagined that he felt just as mortified as she was.

"Well if you're not his girlfriend, then who might you be?"

"My name is Elizabeta Hédeváry and I'm a friend of…of Ludwig." She almost said 'Ludwig's brother' but changed her mind at the last second. "I'm just visiting."

"It's nice to meet you Elizabeta. You can call me Eva. So how long have you been in Berlin?"

"Almost two weeks. I'm actually leaving the day after tomorrow." That was true. She _was_ leaving. She hadn't wanted to come to Berlin in the first place and now she wasn't sure she wanted to leave anymore.

"Aw, well that's too bad. Hold on a second." Eva leaned back into the house. "Do not stick your fingers in there! And don't stick anything else in either!" She turned back to her guests. "Children," she sighed.

"They're all so cute," Elizabeta said.

Eva snorted. "When they want to be. But don't let me take up anymore of your time. Go enjoy your last days here. Thanks again for this Ludwig." After saying quick a goodbye, she closed the door and Elizabeta and Ludwig made their way back to the shop.

"She's a nice lady," Elizabeta said, looking at the ground. She could still feel the heat in her cheeks.

"Yeah," Ludwig said shortly. An awkward silence enveloped them until Elizabeta couldn't help it anymore and burst out laughing.

"What so funny?" Ludwig asked, although the corners of his mouth were turned upwards.

"I don't know!" This made Elizabeta laugh harder. She stopped when she heard Ludwig start laughing next to her. She had never heard him laugh before. It was a nice sound.

"I'm sorry about Eva," he said. "She means well."

Elizabeta grinned. "That's ok. It was just a simple misunderstanding."

"I hope you weren't too embarrassed."

"Me? You should have seen your face! You were redder than a tomato!"

"I was just caught off guard."

"Yeah right! Is the idea of being my boyfriend that mortifying to you Ludwig?" she teased. When he didn't answer she realized that she had gone too far. "I…I meant—"

Ludwig cut her off. "If…if you're not busy later, would you—"

"So I was right!" Elizabeta and Ludwig stopped in their tracks at the familiar voice. Leaning against the front of the clock store was none other than Gilbert. He pushed himself off the wall and came over to meet them, grinning wickedly the whole way.

"I knew it was a secret romantic rendezvous! I just never would have thought it would be with my brother. You are a very naughty girl Elizabeta."

"Y-you idiot! You followed me?" Elizabeta shrieked.

"Well of course!" Gilbert said. "I have to confirm my awesome theories and I was fucking right! But that's not a surprise. I'm always right. So how long have you two been screwing?"

"Let me go Ludwig," Elizabeta hissed. "I'm going to kill him."

"Let's all go inside," Ludwig said. He didn't want to get arrested for allowing a public execution to proceed.

"Inside where?" Gilbert asked, ignoring the death glare from Elizabeta.

Ludwig pointed to the store sign. "There. It's mine."

"This dump?" Gilbert said. He took a step back when Elizabeta cracked her knuckles.

"Yes. I've wanted to show it to you for a long time but I've never really known how." Ludwig unlocked the front door and let Elizabeta go in first. Gilbert followed at a safe distance.

"This is where I am when I'm not at the office." Ludwig said as he closed the door behind them.

"You own…a clock store?" Gilbert asked.

"Yes. I make them and sell them to anyone interested. It helps me relax."

"Wow," Gilbert said and Elizabeta almost believed he would say something meaningful. "I just have one question for you West."

"Gilbert—"

"Are you gay?"

* * *

"I meant it in the best possible way! Seriously! There was no reason to beat me up!" Gilbert whined.

"Shut up!" Elizabeta snapped and slapped the bandage onto his cheek.

"Ow!"

They were back at the house after Ludwig had had to close the store because of an emergency call from the office. For Gilbert, it had been awesome timing. Elizabeta had been on her way to destroying the whole store as she chased after him. Somehow, they had both arrived home, with Gilbert receiving a few more bruises along the way.

"But it's a good thing," Gilbert said. "Up until now I just thought he was asexual. Ow!" Elizabeta slapped the other bandage in place. "And it also means that you two aren't together."

"Are you trying to ruin my life?" Elizabeta yelled as she got up from the floor.

"What? No. At least, not at this moment."

"Well that's what it seems like right now!"

"What the fuck? What's your problem?"

"The problem is that before you oh-so-gracefully interrupted us, Ludwig was going to ask me something!"

"Like what? If you wanted to go dress shopping?" Elizabeta smacked him over the head. "Ow! Stop that!"

"No, you stop! Stop getting in my way! I think…I think he might have even been going to ask me out!" At least that's what she hoped.

"And what would you have said?"

"Well…yes." Gilbert made a face.

"Ew, Liz. That's my younger brother."

"And he happens to be a really sweet person!"

"But still…ew."

Elizabeta threw her hands in the air. "You're impossible!" She stormed out of the bathroom.

"Wait!" Gilbert yelled after her. "You still haven't relocated my finger!" Elizabeta ignored him for the rest of the day as well as the next morning during breakfast.

"So are you going to go see my brother again today?" Gilbert asked.

Elizabeta took a sip of her juice and pretended that he didn't exist. Gilbert hated being ignored but as much as he wanted to lash out, he knew that that wouldn't help the situation.

"Well, if you are, then…have a good time," he mumbled. Elizabeta narrowed her eyes at him. "I mean it in the most innocent way! Yeah, it kind of creepy that you're in to my brother, but I guess I'll get used to it."

"So this is you granting me permission to see your brother?"

"Yeah, I guess," Gilbert muttered. "This is our last day here anyway so you might as well use it wisely. Unless you don't want to leave again."

"I…I do want to stay here, but I'm not going to. I've spent too much time planning this trip. I can't stop now."

"What about my brother? You're just going to leave him here all heartbroken and fragile?"

"Don't make me feel worse. I just have to keep going."

"So you can sample the international platter of men?"

"Stop making me sound like a whore!" She wanted to punch him when he started laughing.

"I'm kidding. God, why are all the people in my life so oblivious to my awesome humor? I get what you mean. I am your best friend." Gilbert made a shooing motion with his hand. "Now go run off to West. I'll be here watching American Idol re-runs."

Elizabeta smiled. "Thanks Gilbert. I'm glad to have your support."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get all sweet now when I know you're going to put my head through a wall later," he said. Elizabeta flicked his forehead.

"Brat."

"Love you too. Oh and wear the blue dress. Your chest doesn't look completely flat in it—ow!"

* * *

Elizabeta wore her green dress. She thought it was much more flattering anyway. To hell with what Gilbert said. Just because he was gay didn't mean he knew anything about fashion...well maybe he knew a little bit.

She was surprised to find the door to the clock store locked when she got there. She was sure that Ludwig had said that he would be there, even though it was Thursday. She knocked until he finally answered.

"We're clos—oh, hi Elizabeta," Ludwig said, fidgeting slightly. "I wasn't expecting you."

She smiled. "Yeah, I should really start calling ahead. Anyway, I was wondering—"

"I'm sorry Elizabeta, but this isn't a good time. I got another order yesterday and I really need to finish it on time," he said. Elizabeta felt her heart sink.

"Oh…okay. When will you be free?" she asked. Ludwig avoided meeting her eyes. "The thing is, I will probably be busy for the rest of the day. I most likely won't even get back to the house until late. I'll see you then."

"Okay. Yeah, that's fine. Yep. Work first, right?" Elizabeta forced a smile. "I'll see you later then."

"Bye," Ludwig said before closing the door. As she walked away, Elizabeta felt a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, anger, sadness, disappointment—but also the feelings of failure and regret. She had lost something—she wasn't even sure what—before she had even really had it. She reached into her bad and pulled out her phone. Gilbert was number one on her speed dial.

"What up?" he said when he answered. It sounded like he was chewing something. "How's Ludwig?"

"Can you come meet me?"

"Are you actually requesting that I be a cockblock?"

"I'm not with Ludwig right now. I don't know what I said or did…" Elizabeta sighed. "Can you just meet me?"

"Sure. Be there in a bit," he said before hanging up. Twenty minutes later, Gilbert found her staring blankly into a small fountain.

"So what happened?" She told him about her encounter with Ludwig, surprised that it hurt more than she originally realized.

Gilbert sighed when she was done. "Sorry to break it to you Elizabeta, but that's just how Ludwig is. That's how he's always been. Work, work, work, work. Don't take it personally. I'm used to it."

"I don't know what to do now," Elizabeta said.

"Here's my suggestion. Make a wish and let's go get some beer."

"It's 1:00 in the afternoon."

"What's your point?" Elizabeta laughed and then pulled a random coin out of her bag. She closed her eyes and dropped it into the fountain.

"Awesome," Gilbert said. "Now let's go get smashed."

* * *

"Is this place ever not packed?" Gilbert complained when their car pulled up to the train station the next day.

"At least it's not rush hour," Elizabeta mumbled. She was still a little hungover from the night before. She normally didn't drink much, but she had downed every glass that had been put in front of her until she could no longer count the fingers on her own hand. The last thing she remembered was setting off fireworks in the middle of the street. Then she had woken up upside down in bed with Gilbert's foot in her face. By the time she had gotten downstairs, Ludwig had already gone to work. She would have at least liked to say goodbye.

The driver came over to open her door and, wobbling slightly, she stepped out.

"Auf Wiedersehen, Deutschland," she said quietly as she took her bags. From behind her a car honked loudly and she turned to see a sleek black car—identical to the one that she had just gotten out of—pull up.

"Did we forget something?" Gilbert asked. She ignored him.

One of the backseat doors opened and out stepped Ludwig. He was dressed for work in a sharp black suit and Elizabeta felt her heart skip a beat.

"West? Why are you here? Don't you have a world to conquer or a puppy to kick?" Gilbert asked. Ludwig ignored him and turned to Elizabeta.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. I just needed time to finish this." He handed her a small box. "You can open it later." Elizabeta took the box with shaking hands and tried to find the right words to express her gratitude without bursting into tears.

"Enjoy the rest of your trip," Ludwig turned to go.

"Wait!" Elizabeta stood on her tiptoes and kissed him quickly on the cheek. She was sure she heard the sound of a camera somewhere. Behind her Gilbert made a gagging noise. "Thank you for everything," she said.

"N-no problem," Ludwig said. His face was bright red.

"Sorry to cut this sickeningly sweet moment short but we have a train to catch. Come on Liz. Later West."

"Don't forget you have an errand to run," Ludwig said.

"Don't be a nag. I won't," Gilbert said over his shoulder.

"Because if you do, Vash will shoot off you kneecaps and I won't stop him."

"I said I won't!"

"Bye, Ludwig."

"Bye, Elizabeta."

With one last wave, Elizabeta ran off after Gilbert. They barely made it on time and had to squeeze past the many bags of a sleeping boy to get to their seats. Gilbert, being himself, accidentally knocked one over. It fell open and out tumbled at least ten boxes of pasta.

"Why the hell does someone need so much pasta?" Gilbert said as he quickly stuffed the boxes back in.

"Don't ask me. Hurry up!" Elizabeta whispered. The boy still slept soundly.

"So open the box already!" Gilbert said when they were finally seated.

"Don't rush me." Elizabeta carefully opened the box and pulled out the small clock inside. The actual clock had been placed into the trunk of a tree and against it slept a girl in a blue dress who had a white rabbit curled up in her lap.

"Who's that?" Gilbert asked.

"Alice."

"Like, from that one book?"

"Yes."

"Why would Ludwig give you this?"

Elizabeta carefully placed the clock back in the box and tucked the box safely in her carry on bag.

"Because he believes in me."

* * *

_May 11th,_

_Dear Elizabeta,_

_That is unfortunate. My music festival begins June 1st. If you still want to come, I will gladly accommodate you for the three days that you will be here._

_And you know how I feel about computers. I just don't understand them and they give me headaches. I very much prefer writing letters. If you need some stamps let me know._

_Personally, I'm not a fan of Berlin. It's much too crowded for my tastes. I prefer Munich or Stuttgart. However, I look forward to hearing about your adventures. As always, stay safe and I hope to see you soon._

_-Roderich_

* * *

**A/N:**

(1) If you are ever in Germany, go to an ice cream store, and order this. SOOOOO GOOOOD.

I'm tempted to start shipping Germany/Hungary now XD

Anyway, next chapter is Italy. Hopefully it won't be this long. My wrist and hands hurt so much from typing ;A;

-with love

dancer


	4. Italy: Day 15 - 22

**A/N: **Remember when I said that I was breaking the chapters up into 'weeks' so that you guys wouldn't have to read 10,000+ word updates? I lied XD I don't think any of the future chapters are going to be under 9,000 words and it wouldn't make sense to cut them anymore. Forgive me, I write too much ;A;

Anyway, I finished this chapter much earlier than I thought I would. Yay! I'm really pumped to right the next one so expect it in a few weeks. Thanks to all those that have reviewed! Enjoy~

**Extra note:** For clarification purposes in case you forgot from chapter one: Gilbert and Elizabeta speak German to each other. Only Elizabeta speaks Italian. They both speak English.

Also, the dates on Elizabeta's and Roderich's letters are the dates that they were posted. And these will fluctuate and are not the dates that the story is necessarily taking place. This might sound confusing, but I shall try to make it clearer in the future.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

* * *

_Italy:_

_Day 15 - 22  
_

_May 16__th__,_

_Dear Roderich,_

_Well that's horrible timing and I was really looking forward to us spending some quality time together. But I suppose the three days will have to do. And I'm sorry for not writing sooner. I've been having a strange, but very fun time in Venice. It wouldn't make sense if I tried to explain it in a letter though. You'll have to be patient. I'm sure you're fervently anticipating my arrival :)_

_I can't wait to see you!_

_-Elizabeta_

* * *

"Shit." The elderly woman next to Gilbert scowled when he said this and moved a seat down the bench. Elizabeta looked up from her map and raised an eyebrow. She didn't like the tone of Gilbert's voice because it meant that there was a good chance that she was about to receive some unpleasant news.

"What?" she said shortly. Italian maps were no easier to understand than German maps and the one in front of her was making her thoroughly irritated. The last thing she needed now was another problem.

Gilbert didn't answer immediately but instead, dropped his bags onto the floor and turned all the pockets of his jacket and pants inside out. The only things that fell out were an empty carton of cigarettes, wadded gum wrappers and a few coins. Gilbert ignored these and turned to his bags. Before Elizabeta could say a word, he unzipped the first one and promptly emptied the contents onto the floor of the train station.

"What the hell are you doing?" Elizabeta hissed as she watched him sift quickly through underwear, socks, and ecchi magazines.

"I think…" Gilbert finished going through the pile and haphazardly stuffed everything back into the bag before picking up the second one and emptying it as well. "I think…I lost the check," he said quietly.

"What check?"

"…the one Vash gave me."

"Does this have anything to do with the errand he sent you?" Elizabeta asked. She was beginning to feel the sinking sensation of encroaching dread. She watched Gilbert stuff his clothes back into his bag before he picked up the third bag and emptied it onto the floor. By now, the people around them were beginning to stare and whisper.

"Yes," Gilbert said, his voice still eerily quiet.

"How much money was the check worth?"

Gilbert picked up a pair of jeans and after digging through the pockets, turned them inside out and shook them viciously. When nothing fell out he tossed them aside and grabbed another pair.

"Gilbert," Elizabeta said slowly, "how much was the check worth?"

Gilbert threw aside the jeans and reached to grab another pair but was stopped as Elizabeta stepped on his hand.

"Look at me," Elizabeta said. Gilbert kept his head down. "Look at me. Now." He finally lifted his head and Elizabeta felt her stomach drop at the terrified look on his face. "How much?"

"1.2 million," Gilbert whispered. His eye grew wide as if saying it out loud made the situation more real and devastating. Elizabeta gasped and took a step back.

"Oh my…w-why?"

"Why what?"

"Did he give it to you?"

"He wanted me to help him deposit it into one of his accounts here. He could have done it electronically, but he said he felt better having it done in person," Gilbert explained quickly. "Elizabeta, what the fuck am I going to do?"

"I don't…I don't know."

"Don't say that! He's. Going. To. Kill. Me."

"No he's not!"

Gilbert nodded. "Yes he is. And not just a bullet to the head. He's going to doing it slowly. Maybe shoot off my limbs one at a time or maybe nail me to a dart board and alternate between throwing knives and shooting me or maybe—"

"Shut up!" Elizabeta snapped, garnering even more attention. She ignored the stares and crouched down on the floor across from Gilbert. His hands were beginning to shake and she took them in her own. "Don't make up stupid scenarios like that! Nothing's going to happen to you because we're going to find that check. Do you remember where you put it?"

"I thought I put it in my pocket, but then I remember taking it out on the train to look at it and then I can't remember what I did with it next! I might have put it in one of my bags but I can't find it! Fuck!"

"Stop swearing and hand me one of your bags."

"But I already looked through all of them!"

"I don't care. Actually, give me both. Just do it." Gilbert sighed and passed over the other two of his bags. Elizabeta opened them and, just as he had done before, dumped the contents onto the floor. However, unlike Gilbert, she went through each pile slowly and carefully and did not frantically throw everything back in when she was done.

"Well it's not in those," Elizabeta said when she zipped up the last bag. Gilbert scowled.

"I could have told you that," he said.

"You have no attention for detail," He opened his mouth, "because if you did, you wouldn't be in this situation in the first place." Gilbert groaned and slumped sideways onto the floor.

"How could this happen to me?" he moaned. "What have I done to deserve this? I'm too young and awesome to die!"

"I told you to stop saying that! You're not going to die! Pick up your bags and let's go ask at the front desk if anyone turned it in."

Gilbert snorted. "Are you kidding me, Liz? You want me to go and ask them if someone turned in a check worth _1.2 million_? If they don't laugh at us, they'll hold us for ransom!"

"Do you have a better idea?"

Gilbert shook his head. "If only West wasn't such a dick and had given me full access to my money. I would just write a new check."

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "I had no clue €1.2 million was so easily replaceable. You're such a rich brat. Now let's go." However, it wasn't until she reached the service desk that she realized just how ridiculous her idea was. Even on the off chance that there was someone out there with a heart of pure gold who would turn the check in, the angry and tired looking man and woman at the desk seemed the type of people who would just keep it for themselves.

"How can I help you?" The woman said sharply when they reached the desk. She was so flustered that it took a few seconds for Elizabeta to remember the Italian that she had labored three years to perfect.

"Um…yes," she said and cleared her throat nervously. The woman raised an eyebrow and the man next to her snickered.

"Uh, uh, my friends and I were just…wondering if anyone…er" Elizabeta racked her brain for the right words. Why was it now that she couldn't remember how to properly conjugate the past tense? "We were wondering if anyone…tu-turned in a check…today?"

The woman's eyebrows went higher. "A check?"

Elizabeta nodded. "My friend believes he might have lost it on the train and we thought we might ask in case anyone found it or if they hadn't perhaps we could leave our information here…" she trailed off because she realized that each word that came out of her mouth just sounded stupider and stupider.

"Just how much is this check worth?" The woman asked, smirking.

"That's not important. We just need to know if anyone has turned in a check."

"Well, unless you can confirm the monetary value of this check, I cannot confirm that one has been found," the woman sounded sincere but the growing smile on her face said otherwise. "I'm sorry but we can't just release lost checks to anyone," she finished with false sweetness.

"It's a very large amount," Elizabeta said.

"How large?"

Elizabeta bit her lip and looked over at Gilbert. He shrugged helplessly, for once, at a loss for words. It also probably had something to do with the fact that he didn't understand Italian.

Elizabeta leaned further against the counter, her hands clasped in front of her in a pleading gesture. "Please," she said softly, "We just need to know."

"How. Much?"

Elizabeta groaned. "€1.2 million," she said quickly. "Happy?"

The woman only stared back. The man next to her had stopped snickering and turned to give Elizabeta a look of sheer disbelief. He and the woman exchanged looks before they both burst out laughing. Elizabeta felt a spike of anger.

"This is serious!"

"Elizabeta, why are they laughing? My life is on the line!" Gilbert said. "What did you say?"

"I told them how much the check is worth."

Gilbert sighed and shook his head. "Great, now we're never going to make it out of here alive."

"Shut up," Elizabeta said, before turning back to the still laughing pair in front of her. "Excuse me? Excuse me? You haven't answered my original question and we would really like to get that money back." It was difficult for her not to just stop right then and run in the other direction from sheer humiliation. But she also had her pride to think about. She would only feel worse later if she gave up now. She would also have to deal with Gilbert's bitching. "This isn't a joke!"

"And neither is the beach house that someone just bought with your money, kid," the man said giggling.

"On the unlikely chance that you're not completely lying through your teeth, I have only two things to say to you," said the woman. She had stopped laughing, but was grinning widely in an almost predatory manner. "You're screwed."

Elizabeta fumed. "How can you just say that? Aren't you supposed to help customers?"

"This is customer _service_, not customer _miracles_, now get out of here."

"But…" Elizabeta began.

The grin on the woman's face was replaced by an annoyed frown. "Look here. That was a cute joke, but I'm afraid it's not very funny anymore." She pointed behind Elizabeta. "We have a long line of people who need help for real, serious problems."

"But we're not lying!"

The woman rolled her eyes. "Save it. Now get out of here before I call security."

"But—!"

"Go!"

"Damn you," Elizabeta whispered underneath her breath and she stomped away from the counter, Gilbert following nervously behind her.

"So what now?" he asked. "They can't help us?"

Elizabeta shook her head. "No. They think I'm lying and I don't blame them. I feel like an idiot."

"I told you it was dumb idea."

"Well it was the only one I had!" Elizabeta snapped. "Look, I don't know what else to do. You're going to have to call your cousin."

Gilbert turned as pale as his hair. "No way in hell!"

"There's nothing else you can do. This place is huge and anyone could have found that check. And you and I both know that whoever did is as likely to turn it is as your cousin not blowing you up."

"I thought you said he wasn't going to kill me!"

"I was trying to be optimistic."

"Well you're coming off as kind of a bitch. Thanks for nothing."

Elizabeta frowned. "It's your fault and you're going to have to deal with the consequences. It's about time you learned a thing or two about responsibility. You can call your cousin at the hostel." Her frown deepened when she saw the calculating look on Gilbert's face. "And don't even think of running away. Your cousin has ties to the government, doesn't he?" Gilbert nodded. "I don't think it will be that hard for him to find you when he finds out that he's missing €1.2 million."

Gilbert began pacing nervously. "Shit! Shit! Shit!..Shit!"

Elizabeta decided to soften up a little when she saw just how scared he was. She had never met Vash, but she could only image that he must be someone extremely intimidating to turn the self described "Most Awesome Person Ever" into a trembling mess.

"Look," she said, "if your cousin does decide to come after you, I'll protect you…kind of."

Gilbert paused his nervous tirade of profanities to look at her with wide, hopeful eyes. "Really, Liz?"

She huffed. "I might let him take a few shots at you, but I won't let you handle him alone. On the off chance I don't get a boyfriend from this trip, you're the next best thing I have and you won't be much comfort to me if you're dead. So yeah, I've got your back…kind of."

Gilbert rushed forward to hug her. "If you were a guy I would totally kiss you right now. Actually, what the hell?" He leaned down and kissed her on both cheeks.

Elizabeta pushed him away. "Oh stop it. Tomorrow, you'll be back to calling me names like 'Liz the forever celibate' or something stupid like that." She rubbed her face with the back of her hands. "I give up on the map. Let's just get out of here and start walking. I don't think it's too far away and we'll get there somehow." She reached down to grab her bags.

"Excuse me, miss?" Elizabeta turned around to see a young boy standing behind her. She recognized him immediately as the sleeping boy from the train—the one with all the pasta. Now that he was awake, she realized that was he was extremely adorable, with a face of pure innocence that was only made cuter by the wayward curl at the side of his head. It was only because she had more important things to deal with that she dismissed the idea of making him her next target.

"Yes?"

"I overheard you talking to the lady at the front desk about a check and I just remembered that I found one on the train. I don't really know what to do with it so I thought maybe you could take it in place of the one you lost."

Elizabeta was both very touched and curious. "You say you found a check? Where? How much is it worth?"

The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a rumpled check. "It was on the floor next to my bags. I'm not sure how much it's worth, but it's a really long number. Here." He handed it to Elizabeta. She gasped when she saw the value written on it: €1,200,000.

"Gilbert!" she said excitedly.

"What?" he said, finally tearing his eyes away from the boy. The fact that he didn't understand a word of the conversation wasn't the only reason he hadn't been paying attention to what they were saying. Elizabeta shoved the check in his face.

"Look at this! What is this?" she said, quickly.

"Can you not shove paper up my nose?" Gilbert snapped.

Elizabeta groaned and held the check up to his eyes. "Does this look familiar to you?"

"Yeah, it looks like HOLY SHIT. IT'S THE CHECK!" Gilbert snatched it from her hands. "Oh my God! This is it!" He kissed it dramatically.

Elizabeta smiled, despite herself, and turned back to the boy. "Thank you so much!" Anything else she wanted to say was interrupted as Gilbert elbowed her out of the way and pulled the boy into a tight embrace.

"Thank you doesn't even start to cover it! You saved my life, kid."

"Um, I don't really know what you said but okay?," the boy said, confusedly albeit cheerfully, if a little strained due to how tightly Gilbert was squeezing him.

"My God, Gilbert, put the poor boy down and let him breathe," Elizabeta said, irritated that she had been pushed aside.

"You know, I'm so fucking happy right now and because I'm naturally awesome, I think you deserve a reward," Gilbert said. The boy turned to Elizabeta and she grudgingly repeated what Gilbert has said.

"But why?" he asked.

"You saved me and this is my way of thanking you," Gilbert said, when Elizabeta had translated the response. "We should all go out to dinner together. Sounds awesome, right Liz?"

"Gilbert, I can't even find our hostel on the map. What makes you think I'll be able to find a restaurant?"

"It shouldn't be too hard, especially if we have a natural born Italian guiding us. Hey kid, what's your name?"

Although she was beginning to get annoyed, Elizabeta translated, not for Gilbert's sake, but because she was curious as well.

"Feliciano Vargas~" Feliciano said in his cute manner. Now that the case of the missing check had been solved, Elizabeta's focus was once again on her mission and she decided that Feliciano was much too cute to let go. Unfortunately, it seemed that Gilbert was having similar thoughts and once again, Elizabeta wished she had left him in Germany. This was exactly the reason she had been reluctant to bring him along. They could be in the most heterosexual city in the world and he would still be competition, which baffled her because she didn't think him charming at all. He was an annoying attention seeker whose main goal seemed to be the utter destruction of her love life—not that she had ever had much of one—and although he was her best friend and she did love him—not that she would ever admit it—there were many times that she wished that they weren't as inseparable as everyone said they were.

"Ok, Feliciano. That's such a cute name," Gilbert said after they had made their own introductions. "Liz, tell him that I'm taking him out to dinner tonight."

"You mean _we're_ taking him out to dinner tonight," Elizabeta said.

Gilbert feigned a look of innocence. "Of course, isn't that what I said?"

Elizabeta gave him a withering look before translating. "We would be very happy if you would join us for dinner tonight. It will be our treat and Gilbert will pay for all the expenses." Inwardly, she gave a self-righteous victory cheer. Gilbert deserved that for not speaking Italian and for trying to steal her next target.

"Really? That's sound wonderful," Feliciano said, making no effort to offer to pay. "I have to drop my bags off at my house first though. I don't live very far from here, but we can take a taxi because it's still kind of a tiring walk."

"No problem," Elizabeta said. "Maybe we'll even find our own hostel on the way there."

Gilbert poked Elizabeta in the side. "What's going on? What are you saying?"

"Don't touch me!" she snapped. "We're going to Feliciano's house—wipe that smile off your face—so he can drop off his bags and then we can go to dinner. Hopefully, we'll find our hostel on the way there."

"If not, we can always stay with Feliciano. Someone that cute and sweet wouldn't think twice about having people over." Elizabeta rolled her eyes.

"You and your wishful thinking," she said, flatly.

* * *

Feliciano was by some miracle able to successfully get them a taxi, which wasn't really a taxi at all, but a water taxi. Elizabeta stared at the boat in delight as it pulled up to the dock. She knew that Venice, as a city built on water, wouldn't have many cars, but for some reason she hadn't actually expected to have such charming transportation.

Feliciano entered first while Elizabeta and Gilbert fought to sit next to him. In the end, it was Elizabeta who emerged victorious when she found an opening and elbowed Gilbert hard in the stomach. Groaning, he doubled over and she quickly grabbed her bags and slid into the backseat of the taxi. Feliciano was staring happily out the window and did not seem to have noticed the scuffle that had gone on outside.

"Are you going to stay there are all day?" Elizabeta said to Gilbert who was trying to catch his breath. He shot her a dirty look and she only grinned in reply.

"This isn't over," he hissed when he got in next to her.

"You're not going to win this time," Elizabeta said, accepting the challenge before turning to their new friend.

"So were you coming back from holiday, Feliciano?" she asked, brightly as the taxi pulled away from the dock.

"No, I was visiting my brother. He lives in Palermo."

"You have a brother? How delightful. Was it a nice visit?" Elizabeta regretted the question immediately when she saw the smile slip off Feliciano's face. But before she could apologize, the bright smile was back in place.

"Yeah," Feliciano nodded. "He even gave me all this pasta. I love pasta." He waved around one of the boxes. "I don't get to see him a lot so it was really nice to visit." Elizabeta nodded and tried to quash her curiosity regarding Feliciano's brief look of despair. It wasn't her place to pry.

"What are you two talking about?" Gilbert said in her ear. Elizabeta pushed him away.

"Haven't you ever heard of personal space?"

"Haven't you ever heard of a breath mint?"

Elizabeta cracked her knuckles. "You really want to do this now?" Before Gilbert could answer, Feliciano announced happily, "We're here!"

Elizabeta and Gilbert craned their necks out of the window to see a beautiful collection of buildings but immediately something stuck out as odd. There was large ugly gap, like a poorly pulled tooth, between the buildings and as they drew closer, they saw the recently charred rubble and the acrid smell of smoke irritated their noses.

"Wait, what's going on?" Feliciano said. "What happened to my house? It used to be right here."

"There was a fire a few nights ago." the taxi driver piped up.

"Oh no!" Elizabeta said. "How did it happen?"

"Some idiot left a pot of pasta on the stove."

"I wonder who did that," Feliciano said, sincere confusion in his voice. Elizabeta and Gilbert exchanged glances but said nothing. The taxi pulled up to the shore and the driver got out to secure it to the edge.

"What am I going to do now?" Feliciano asked as they disembarked.

"I'm so sorry, Feliciano. Do you have anyone else you can stay with?" Elizabeta asked as she took her bags from the driver.

Feliciano shook his head sadly. "I can get a new apartment, but it will take at least a week. Today's the 15th right? Paperwork takes time here and I can't imagine having anything processed before the 21st. I guess I'll have to get a hotel."

"No way. You're going to stay with us. After what you did for us today, it's the least we can do," Elizabeta said. She pointed across the street to a building a few blocks down that she had just noticed. "Our hostel is right there. We only booked two beds, but I'm sure Gilbert can pay for a third one. If that's alright with you?"

"Really? Wow, you're so nice, Elizabeta. The pretty girls are always the nicest," Feliciano said. Elizabeta beamed at the compliment. Gilbert asked her to translate and she ignored him.

"Don't you think that we should go the police station first, in case they recovered anything from your apartment?" Elizabeta asked as they started walking.

"No, the only things in there were clothes and pasta and those are easily replaceable. I carry all my really important stuff with me," Feliciano said. "My Grandpa always said that you have to be prepared for anything."

"That's a smart grandfather you have," Elizabeta said.

"Had. He died a few years ago," Feliciano said, sadly.

"I'm sorry." Elizabeta mentally kicked herself for bringing up another sensitive subject.

"It's okay. He had other really cool sayings too, like 'the prettier the girl, the better the sex', except I wouldn't know because I'm a virgin. But don't tell anyone, it's supposed to be a secret."

"Um, sure," Elizabeta said, wondering what kind of secret that was if you told it to people you had just met less than an hour ago.

"I swear, Liz. If you don't start translating, I'm going to toss your bags into the water," Gilbert grumbled behind them.

"There's nothing to translate," Elizabeta said over her shoulder.

"So everything you've been saying is just…?"

"Meaningless chatter that has nothing to do with you. Now keep up, you're falling behind."

"You do know that I'm carrying most of the bags? Would it kill you to take a few?"

Elizabeta smiled sweetly. "Sorry Gilbert, I assumed that because you are 'so awesome' it wouldn't be too much of a problem for you. If you don't think you're up to carrying a few little bags then I guess I could help you out." She stopped and held out a hand. Gilbert glared at it and pushed past her.

"Your help is the last thing I need," he said. Elizabeta only grinned.

"Is something wrong with Gilbert?" Feliciano asked.

"No, that's just how he always is. Don't let the appearance fool you. He's actually a big softie, just really grumpy."

"That's how my brother is too!" Feliciano said happily. Once again, Elizabeta was tempted to ask but kept her mouth shut until they reached the hostel. However, once they arrived, she had to deal with Gilbert's complaints about having to pay for another bed, to her great embarrassment.

"Why can't you pay for it?" he asked. They were standing in front of the front desk and a line was already beginning to form behind them.

"Because I didn't just inherit millions!" Elizabeta hissed.

"Yeah, but you know my funds are limited. Two beds are fine. Feliciano can just stay with me."

Elizabeta narrowed her eyes at him, finally understanding the true source of his unwillingness to pay.

"Yeah, I'm sure you would like that. But it's not happening. Pay for the bed," she pulled out her phone, "or I get your cousin on the line."

"You don't know his number."

"No, but Ludwig does and I'm sure he would love to hear about how you almost lost his check. It might make him have a few second thoughts about trusting you with it. Maybe even enough to make him come down here himself." It was a long shot, but Elizabeta saw the fear in Gilbert's eyes and knew her bluff had worked.

Swearing loudly, Gilbert reached into his pocket and pulled out his card, which Elizabeta had finally returned to him, and slammed it down on the desk, greatly unsettling the poor woman behind it.

"You better watch that precious phone of yours, Liz. Because I'm breaking it in half the first chance I get," he said. Elizabeta ignored the threat and slipped her phone back into her pocket.

"And if my account gets overdrawn, it's your fault. You know there's almost nothing left in it, especially after we bought those jackets."

"It won't be overdrawn, don't worry. Your brother made sure of that," she said. Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know this?" he asked.

"I called him on the train when you were sleeping," Elizabeta said, blushing slightly, "to thank him for the clock and I accidently let it slip that, financially, I hadn't prepared as well as I had thought for this trip." Going to Germany had thrown her off schedule in more ways than one and if she didn't start making some serious cutbacks, she was going to run out of money before July. There were so many little costs that she hadn't considered and they were adding up and draining her account. "He wanted to send some money but of course I couldn't accept that—don't give me that look, I'm not a beggar—so instead, he said he would temporarily lift the holds on your account but monitor your activity."

Gilbert's face brightened. "So how much do I have access to?"

"I'm not really supposed to tell you, to keep you away from temptation, but I guess you would find out eventually. About a quarter of the original inheritance, not counting the business shares." She saw Gilbert do the calculations quickly in his head. This was how she knew he wasn't as stupid as he made people think he was. At least when it came to money, his mind was incredibly sharp. So even though she knew he hated the idea of ever going to work for his brother, she was sure he could make himself a fortune. He was an idiot, but a smart idiot, in as much sense as that made.

Gilbert's grin widened when he finished calculating just how much money was sitting comfortably and availably for him in his account. Elizabeta wagged a warning finger in his face.

"Don't you dare think of spending it. Didn't you hear what I said? Ludwig is monitoring your activity. Paying for an extra hotel bed is one thing, but if he starts noticing a large amount of clothing and alcohol purchases, he's going to shut you down. He hasn't given you all this money to spend it in whatever way you like," she said.

"No, he's given it to me so I can take care of precious you," Gilbert teased, meanly. Elizabeta blushed again.

"That's not true," she said quietly.

"He wouldn't have done it if you hadn't said anything. So as usual, West gives a shit about anyone that isn't me. Why am I not surprised?"

"Your brother cares about you, Gilbert, a lot. But if it makes you feel better, think of the money as insurance for both of us. So we can both have a good time."

"But how can I have a good time if I can't buy beer?" Gilbert whined.

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "You can buy beer; just don't start buying mass crates of wine. It's all about moderation. Look it up."

"Wait a minute! You knew I had access to all this money when I was looking for the check! Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because first off, I knew you would have tried to forge a new one and secondly, your brother would definitely have noticed if you withdrew that much money. Besides, you don't even have enough to cover the check."

"True...I still can't believe you were holding on out me though."

"I'm sorry sir," the woman behind the desk spoke up, "but we're completely book except for our private room.

Elizabeta quickly translated. "How many beds are in there?" Gilbert asked.

"Seven."

"What the fuck are we going to do with seven beds?" Gilbert asked when Elizabeta told him. She shrugged. "Fuck it, we'll take it. Maybe we can push them all together and make a super bed." He paid and Elizabeta went to get Feliciano, who had been standing by the front door the whole time they were talking, playing with a pair of stray cats.

"Hey Elizabeta, since we have all those beds do you think we can bring them into the room with us?" he asked when she told him what had happened.

"Unfortunately, I don't think they allow pets," she said as she pet the stripped tabby in his hands. It purred happily at the attention. Its brother or sister was curled next to Feliciano's leg.

"Cats are so cute," Gilbert said when he joined them. He reached out to pet the one of the floor and recoiled quickly when it hissed angrily at him.

"See Gilbert? Not everyone loves you," Elizabeta said, failing to keep the smile out of her voice.

"Shut it."

* * *

They ended up at a small, but cozy restaurant that was tucked away between two large buildings so that it was almost hidden in the shadows cast by the evening street lights. When they walked in, a young, pretty girl chattering much too fast for Elizabeta to keep up, greeted them and led them to a table in the back before going to the back to call a large man who, smiling widely, marched over to their table and pulled Feliciano into a tight hug. From him, Elizabeta was able to catch only a few small phrases, including: "been too long", "looking like your grandfather" and "order anything you like". It wasn't until the man put him down that Feliciano was able to introduce her and Gilbert to the man, whose name was Lorenzo; he was the owner of the restaurant. He kissed Elizabeta's hand and proclaimed her to be the loveliest woman he had ever seen. She beamed and Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"Did you know I am a descendant of Lorenzo the Magnificent himself? From his daughter Maria Maddalena Romola de' Medici," he said proudly.

"I thought it was Contessina Antonia Romola de' Medici," the girl behind him said, grinning. Lorenzo turned around and angrily flapped his hands at her.

"Don't you have customers to attend to? I didn't hire you to stand around talking. Don't think I can't fire you at any time," he said. The girl laughed good-naturedly.

"He says this every time," she said to Elizabeta.

"Go!" With a wink, the girl turned on her heel. "Do not listen to Giulietta," Lorenzo said when she was gone. "That girl would rather spend her time flirting with boys than leaning about her family history." His smile returned. "Please sit and enjoy yourselves. Any friend of Feliciano is a friend of mine. Tonight, everything is on the house."

"We couldn't let you do that!" Elizabeta protested.

Lorenzo shook his head, "I insist. I owe it to Feliciano's grandfather and I could never make such a beautiful woman pay. Your friend on the other hand," he said, eyeing Gilbert suspiciously, "will have to pay for himself if he does not stop staring the way he is."

"Why's everyone looking at me?" Gilbert said, for once unnerved by the attention he was receiving. "What did I do?"

Elizabeta giggled and wondered if she should tell Lorenzo that it wasn't his daughter that Gilbert was so fixated on.

"I'll make sure he keeps his hands to himself," she said.

"Lovely and smart," Lorenzo said. "You remind me of my wife, God bless her soul. Now, where is that useless daughter of mine? Giulietta! Bring these people their menus." He gave Gilbert one last look before heading back to the kitchens.

"What did I do?" Gilbert asked again. "What were you guys saying? Why does everyone speak Italian here?"

Elizabeta sighed as she sat down next to him. "Because you're in Italy, moron." Giulietta brought them the menus and when she handed Gilbert's his, Lorenzo suddenly poked his head out from the back, causing Gilbert to almost jump a foot in the air.

"What aren't you telling me?" he hissed at Elizabeta, who couldn't stop laughing.

"Nothing, nothing," she said. She noticed that Feliciano was sitting empty-handed next to her. "What about your menu, Feliciano?"

"I don't need one. They know what I like~" he said.

"Just how long have you been coming here?" Elizabeta asked.

"Almost my whole life. Grandpa used to bring me and my brother here every Sunday after mass but since my brother moved away I haven't been here very much."

Elizabeta couldn't help herself anymore. "Why did your brother move away?" she asked.

"Because he inherited Grandpa's job," Feliciano said sadly.

"What did your grandfather do?"

Feliciano looked down at his hands. "I'm not really supposed to talk about it."

Elizabeta bit her lip, embarrassed by her own nosiness. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"Hey, Elizabeta," Gilbert said, "I can't read anything on this menu. Does that say linguine?"

"That's fettuccine," Elizabeta said, irritated that Gilbert had ruined the moment.

"Really? That looks like an 'L' to me. Fuck this, I don't know what to get. What are you getting?"

Elizabeta glanced at her menu for the first time. The words swam in front of her eyes and suddenly, she lacked the effort to try and translate. "What do you recommend, Feliciano?" He had still been staring forlornly at the table but brightened immediately.

"You should try the bigoli! I love all types of pasta but Lorenzo makes his really good!"

Elizabeta closed her menu. "It's settled then. We'll take that."

"What did you pick?" Gilbert asked.

"We're having the bigoli," she said.

"The hell is that?"

"No clue."

"Aren't you supposed to be the expert on Italian culture? Doesn't that include cuisine?"

"Maybe if we were in Rome. I don't know much about Venice."

"Then why didn't we go to Rome?"

"Because everyone goes to Rome," Elizabeta huffed. "You're so mainstream Gilbert." Before Gilbert could snap back, Giulietta came to take their orders. As if on cue, Lorenzo made an appearance once more, glaring at Gilbert until Feliciano finished ordering for them.

"Holy shit, he thinks I'm into his daughter, doesn't he?" Gilbert said when it finally dawned on him.

"Took you long enough to catch on," Elizabeta said, snickering.

"Liz, you bitch, why didn't you tell him I'm not into girls?"

Elizabeta feigned innocence. "Sorry, it just slipped my mind. Oops."

"Fuck you! See if I translate anything for you when we get to France!"

"Not that anyone will understand you. Your French is terrible."

"My French is awesome!"

"It lacks a certain_ je ne sais quoi_."

"…huh?"

Elizabeta sighed. "You're hopeless."

"German is such a weird language," Feliciano said. "It sounds kind of funny."

"It's definitely not as beautiful as French or Italian," Elizabeta admitted.

"Your Italian is very good. Have you been to Italy before?"

Elizabeta smiled at the compliment. "No, this is my first time."

"Are you here on holiday?" Feliciano asked.

"You could say that. I'm actually here on a mission."

"A secret mission? Like spies?"

"Uh, no. It's a mission of the heart." Elizabeta drew a dramatic breath. "I'm here to find true love."

"Really? Then Italy is the perfect place for you! Anyone can find true love in Italy," Feliciano said, proudly.

"You think so?" Elizabeta asked, leaning a little forward. Feliciano nodded.

"I can even help you out," he said.

Elizabeta's heart leapt. In her mind she saw him reaching over to take her hands to ask her if she would like to accompany him on a romantic midnight gondola ride around the city. Gilbert could find his way back to the hostel himself. Instead, he said:

"Yeah, this lady across the street from me has book club meetings every week with a bunch of other women and Grandpa used to say it was because they were all looking for true love. I could introduce you to her!"

Elizabeta visibly deflated, her forehead almost sinking to the table. Yes, Feliciano was adorable. Adorably dim. He was Gilbert without the sass and snarky attitude. Actually, that was uncharitable. Comparing anyone to Gilbert was an insult.

"I actually think she's having a meeting tomorrow," Feliciano said, not having noticed Elizabeta's despair.

"T-that's okay!" she said quickly, sitting back up. "I can probably manage on my own." Luckily for her, Lorenzo chose that moment to bring them their food.

"Made with a recipe passed down from my great-great-aunt—a contessa—gorgonzola bigoli!" he announced. He slid Elizabeta and Feliciano their plates and Elizabeta stared hungrily at the plate of steaming noodles, realizing at that moment just how hungry she had been. Lorenzo set down Gilbert's plate on the table and slowly pushed it towards him, narrowed eyes never leaving his face.

"Elizabeta!" Gilbert snapped. "Tell him now!"

"Okay, okay," Elizabeta said. "Lorenzo, I can assure you that Gilbert isn't interested in your daughter."

"Well obviously," Lorenzo said. "I knew that from the moment I saw him."

Elizabeta's brow furrowed in confusion. "But…I thought…the suspicious looks you were giving him...you said that he should stop staring."

"Yes, he should stop staring at Feliciano." Lorenzo laid a protective hand on the boy's shoulder. Feliciano barely noticed. He was already half way done with his pasta. "I promised his grandfather I would look after him, in _all_ aspects."

Elizabeta couldn't help it and started laughing. "Oh wow, and all this time I thought you were worried that he was trying to hit on Giulietta!"

"No, no, no. As if any sane man would try to pursue her."

"I heard that!" came the indignant reply from the front of the restaurant.

"Good! Now get back to work!" Lorenzo shouted back. He turned to Elizabeta. "Feliciano is very dear to me and I would first spit on the grave of my grandmother—a cousin of the pope—before I let some stranger try and steal his heart."

Elizabeta smiled weakly because, until a few minutes ago, that had been her intentions exactly. Luckily, she was less obvious about her affections than Gilbert. But she saw now that Feliciano, despite his cute looks, was not what she was looking for. However, she was enjoying his company and still desperately wanted to learn more about his brother and why the topic made him so sad.

"Oh, no," she said. "Gilbert wouldn't dare try something like that." She elbowed Gilbert in the ribs, causing to almost choke on the noodles in his mouth. "Would you?"

Gilbert coughed. "Would I what?" he snapped.

"Would you stop staring at Feliciano like some lovesick puppy?" Elizabeta hissed. "Or Lorenzo is going to beat the shit out of you."

"But I'm not interested in his daughter!" Gilbert protested.

"He knows that. Anyone with a half-working gaydar would know that."

Gilbert grinned. "Wow, am I that obvious?"

"Yes, now stop gawking."

"You're just jealous because Feliciano likes me better."

"You can't even have a conversation with him without me translating!"

"So? Don't be bitter because you're so una-ahhhhhh!" Elizabeta pinched him. "Unattainable! I was going to say unattainable!"

"As if that's any better," Elizabeta snapped before turning back to Lorenzo. "Gilbert understands perfectly. You don't have to worry about him laying a finger on Feliciano," she assured him.

"Excellent. I will leave you all to enjoy the rest of your meal." Lorenzo disappeared back into the kitchen but not before shooting Gilbert one last glare.

"I've never had bigoli," Elizabeta said as she lifted a forkful of noodles to her mouth.

"That's so sad!" Feliciano said. "How does it taste?"

Elizabeta swallowed. "Delicious! It's amazing! This might be my new favorite food!"

"What other Italian food have you had?" Feliciano asked.

"To be honest, this is my first authentic Italian meal," Elizabeta said.

"Really?" he sounded so shocked that Elizabeta almost blushed. It was her first time in Italy after all. "That's terrible!" He reached over to take her hands. "I can't let you live like this! We're going to go our own mission!"

"We, we are?" Elizabeta asked, completely frazzled now that her fantasy had come true, but in the strangest way possible.

Feliciano nodded. "Yes, we are going to find you your true food!"

"What's he saying?" Gilbert asked with his mouth half full.

"We're going to find me my…true food," Elizabeta repeated, still in shock.

"Sounds better than true love. I approve."

.

.

.

The next day was pizza. All pizza. By lunch, Gilbert had given himself a stomachache and was forced to return to the hostel, leaving Feliciano and Elizabeta to dine alone for dinner. The day before, Elizabeta might have gloated loudly about this in Gilbert's face, but more and more, she was seeing Feliciano like the little brother she had never had and had never really known she had wanted. She guessed he was around her age, maybe a few years younger, but he had such childish mannerisms that would have been irritating in anyone else but were absolutely adorable in him. Many times she was struck with the urge to pet his head, or at least pull that curl of his.

"So what do you think?" Feliciano asked.

Elizabeta chewed thoughtfully on the pizza. It was heaven on earth. This wasn't cardboard takeout, but authentic pizza with cheese that seemed to melt as soon as it touched your tongue. At home, she was usually pickier about toppings but everything tasted so fresh that to remove even a single mushroom would have been a sin.

"It's wonderful," she said. That was actually an understatement.

"Is it your true food?"

She was tempted to say yes. The pizza definitely beat the bigoli—although both were delicious—but at the same time she thought it was too soon to make a decision. There were still so many things to try.

"I don't think so. I'm pretty sure it's Gilbert's though."

"Tomorrow, we can try seafood. Venice has the best seafood in the world! But that should be obvious."

"I look forward to it," Elizabeta lied. She had never been a huge fan of seafood—it usually made her ill—but she decided to be optimistic. All the Italian food she had eaten so far had been delicious. How could the seafood not be?

.

.

.

"You didn't like it?" Feliciano asked when Elizabeta came out of the bathroom. She held a finger up, trying to steady herself. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, she was overcome by a wave of nausea and ran back into the bathroom.

"Definitely not your true food," Feliciano said, shaking his head.

.

.

.

By Wednesday, Gilbert had recovered from his pizza-induced food coma and had resumed his near constant flirting with an oblivious Feliciano while pestering Elizabeta for translations to everything.

"What does that say?" he asked, pointing to a random sign.

"Luigi's Mushroom Market."

"How about that one?"

"Boat Rentals."

"And that one? What does it say?"

"It says 'Gilbert should shut the hell up'."

Gilbert pretended to be hurt. "You don't have to be so rude." He pushed past her to catch up with Feliciano, who was leading the way to the next restaurant and they began to converse in what Gilbert had dubbed "Awesome Speak" and Elizabeta had dubbed "Idiot Speak"—idiot applying solely to Gilbert who had come up with it in the first place. Annoyed at Elizabeta's refusal to translate every single word for him, he had devised his own method of communicating with Feliciano. To Elizabeta, it seemed to be nothing except a stream of garbled nonsense and a lot of frantic hand waving. But it must have made some sense because Feliciano replied back in similar manner. They were extremely embarrassing to be around when they starting "speaking" and Elizabeta put some distance between herself and them, taking the quiet time to ponder her current situation.

She had thought little about her original plan to find true love since she had began her new quest to find true…food. It was not that she still didn't intend to go manhunting in Italy, but she and her stomach were enjoying themselves immensely and she couldn't imagine stopping yet. She planned on continuing the search for her true food until Friday. After that, she would still have a week left in Italy and she would definitely be spending it searching for true love. She blamed part of her willingness to delay her search on Ludwig. She looked at the clock he had given her every night before she went to bed and tried to push away the urge to pack her things and go back to Germany. What sort of adventure would that be if she stopped right now? And although she liked Ludwig very much, she somehow knew that he wasn't 'the one' and that they would probably only ever be friends. Her true love was still out there somewhere…somewhere.

"Liz! Can you not walk like an 80-year-old woman?" Gilbert called, startling her out of her daze. "The ravioli isn't going to wait forever!"

"And just where is it going it go?" She yelled back.

"Into the stomach of some unworthy loser. Now catch up!"

Grumbling, Elizabeta picked up her pace. Despite what Gilbert had said, the ravioli was still there waiting for them at every restaurant they stopped at. By the end of the day, she had concluded that it was better than bigoli, but still not up to par with the pizza. Gilbert had no comment except a pained groan. He had once again eaten too much.

.

.

.

"You know, fettuccine is my brother's favorite type of pasta after orecchiette," Feliciano said at their first restaurant on Thursday. "We used to come here a lot too."

Elizabeta sighed, sadly and set down her glass of wine—something she had started taking with her meals as of two days earlier. "Feliciano," she said, "is your brother in some kind of trouble?"

Feliciano's eyes widened, causing Elizabeta to notice for the first time what a pretty brown they were—almost amber. He looked terrified and ashamed, as if he had given away some terrible secret.

"How do you know?" he asked softly.

"When Gilbert was rearranging the beds last night after you fell asleep, he accidently knocked over one of your bags and a piece of paper that said "MUST SAVE LOVINO" fell out. Lovino's your brother, right?" Feliciano nodded. "I know it's not my business, but you look so sad whenever you talk about him and seeing you sad makes me feel sad and I don't think I can bare to keep quiet about it anymore. Please, Feliciano, tell me what's going on with your brother. Please."

"I…I went to Palermo to try and get him to come home but he yelled at me and told me that that was impossible and I should just leave him alone. When he went down there four years ago he told me that it would only be for a little bit and that he was only going because of a promise he made to Grandpa. But…but then he didn't come back and then he stopped answering my calls. This is the second time I've been to Palermo and he said that I should stop because if I came back I wouldn't see him again." Feliciano sniffed. Elizabeta reached into her purse and handed him a tissue. He blew his nose, loudly.

"You said your brother inherited your grandfather's job. What exactly did your grandfather do?" Feliciano shifted nervously in his chair. "You can tell me. I promise not to say a word to anyone else. Not even Gilbert."

"Promise?"

"Pinky swear." They shook pinkies and then Feliciano told her a story that she couldn't quite believe but did anyway because it was so crazy that it had to be true.

After he finished, it took her a few seconds to find the right words. "So…you're saying that your grandfather was not just a criminal, but the leader of one the world's most notorious organized criminal groups?" Feliciano nodded. "And now Lovino's a part of it too?" Feliciano nodded again. "And you think he's in danger and have thus spent the past three years trying to get him to come home?" Feliciano nodded for the third time. Elizabeta leaned back in her seat. "_Shit_," she said. "I never would have guessed that in a million years."

"My brother's a good person, Elizabeta. He doesn't belong there. I have to get him out, but I don't know how." Feliciano's face crumpled and Elizabeta made her decision right then and there.

"Feliciano, I'm going to help you bring your brother home," she said.

Feliciano hiccupped. "W-what?"

"I'm going to go to Palermo to rescue him for you."

"But you can't! It's too dangerous!"

Elizabeta grinned. "Danger? Ha! I laugh in the face of danger!" The distraught look on Feliciano's face remained unchanged. "You've done so much for me this past week. If I hadn't met you, I would have spent all my time in Venice looking for some guy and I wouldn't have gone to all the places you've taken me or eaten all the delicious food you've introduced to me. You've shown me the real Venice and I am sincerely grateful to you for that. The past few days have been amazing and I can't thank you enough. So please let me do this. It's the only proper way I can repay you."

"But you don't understand! These people are really scary and they won't think twice about hurting you or Gilbert. If anything happened to either of you I would never forgive myself!"

"Gilbert would probably jump for joy if he heard you say that. I appreciate the concern, but you don't have to worry about us. We'll be fine." She saw that he still didn't believe her. "And we're going, whether you like it or not."

"Please rethink this Elizabeta," Feliciano begged.

"Too late," she said. "I've already made up my mind. Gilbert always says I'm too stubborn for my own good." She smirked. "For once he's right."

* * *

"This…is my true food," Elizabeta announced.

"What is it?" Gilbert asked.

"Risotto," Feliciano said.

"It's…it's…so beautiful."

"You mean delicious, right?"

"What are the chances you would find it here?" They were seated at a small restaurant a few minutes away from the train station. Elizabeta and Gilbert were set to leave in less than an hour and Elizabeta had wanted to try one last time if she could find her Venetian true food. And she had found it.

"I could eat this forever."

"Oh God Liz, don't start crying."

"Let's order another plate. Waiter!"

Although he hadn't approved of them leaving, Feliciano had eventually become resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be able to stop them from going. So he had given them Lovino's address and made them swear a million times that they would stay safe. Gilbert, who thought that they were merely going to see Feliciano's brother, was sad to be saying goodbye and communicated in "Idiot Speak" that he would come and visit Feliciano again as soon as possible.

"I'm so happy!" Elizabeta said as she polished off the second plate of risotto. "This is the perfect end to the day. Are you sure you don't want some Gilbert?"

"No thanks. Two days in bed from food coma have taught me a valuable lesson. I'll just get pizza on the train."

Feliciano opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by a pair of tourists.

"Excuse me," the man said in English, "we're trying to get to the Rialto Bridge. Can you help us?"

"Yeah, of course," Feliciano said in perfect English. Gilbert's jaw dropped and Elizabeta nearly choked on her true food.

"….and then it's on your left," Feliciano finished. The tourists thanked him profusely before scurrying off. "Americans are always so nice," he said, turning back to Elizabeta and Gilbert, who had been staring at him the whole time.

Gilbert found his voice first. "You speak English?" he yelled, causing half the occupants of the restaurant to turn their heads.

"Mhmm. My Grandpa taught me and my brother and, before he died, we went to America on holiday at least twice a year. Oh wow, you speak English too Gilbert? That's so cool! Do you speak it Elizabeta?" She nodded. "Wow, what are the chances of that?"

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"You never asked~!"

Gilbert groaned. "This whole time, I've been flapping my arms like an idiot…"

"But I like 'Awesome Speak'!" Feliciano said. "It was so much fun. You're so cool to have come up with that all by yourself." Gilbert grinned widely.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's so clever."

"Here that Liz? He called me clever. Didja hear? Huh?"

"I heard," Elizabeta muttered.

"Yeah, I'm so awesome," Gilbert said. "But next time I come here, it's all English, okay? It will take time for me to perfect 'Awesome Speak'. Maybe I should write a book or something…"

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "Don't start. Feliciano, what time is it?"

"Almost 6."

"We should head back to the train station." Elizabeta looked sadly down at her empty plate. "I'll miss you."

"Now this is just getting depressing," Gilbert said. "Hey! Can we get a carry out box or something over here?"

.

.

.

"So your new apartment will be ready by Monday? That's great. You can stay at the hostel until then. Everything's all paid for, although it might be a little lonely with all those beds." Elizabeta said. She and Gilbert were about to board the train and were saying their last goodbyes. "Maybe you should try and sneak in those cats after all."

"Yeah, like stuff them in a rucksack or something," Gilbert added. The last boarding call echoed down the platform. "Aw shit, time to go already?" Gilbert held out his arms. "C'mere you. I'll miss you." Under Elizabeta's watchful eye, he gave Feliciano a longer than necessary hug. He leaned in for a last kiss on the cheek, but Elizabeta grabbed him by the back of his shirt and threw him onto the train.

"Are you really going to do this? It's so dangerous." Feliciano said.

"You'll be hearing from us by Monday that we've got Lovino and everything is alright," Elizabeta said, confidently. She hugged Feliciano and stepped onto the train. "Take care of yourself. And thanks again." The train pulled away and she waved to him until she couldn't see him anymore and then went to her compartment. Gilbert was staring forlornly out the window and he scowled at her as she sat down.

"Cockblock."

"Moron."

"She-devil."

"Asshole."

"He called me clever. I totally won. And I'll win over his brother too."

Elizabeta raised an eyebrow. "You think so? Fine. Challenge accepted."

* * *

_May 20__th_

_Dear Elizabeta,_

_I too am upset by the poor timing of your visit but we shall have to make the most of the limited time we have together. I believe that there will be a showing of "Swan Lake" at a theatre in the area the day after you arrive. Perhaps you would be interested in attending?_

_And I do find Venice to have a particular charm, although I'm not fond of boats or their seafood. _

_Write when you can,_

_Roderich_

* * *

**A/N:** I just wanted to warn you guys ahead of time that the next chapter will be deviating a lot in terms of mood and emotion in comparison to these first chapters. So far I've been keeping everything light-hearted and funny, but do not expect this from the next chapter. I'm just warning you so that any mood whiplash you experience won't be such a surprise.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I had fun writing it~~

-with love

dancer


	5. Italy: Day 23 - 29

**A/N:** This chapter is a monster. The official ff word count is: 21,942. I honestly did not mean for it to be this long. OTL Please forgive me. I promise that I will never write this much again. I'm exhausted. Enjoy~

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

_South Italy:_

_Day 23 - 29_

_May 22nd,_

_Dear Roderich,_

_There's been a slight change of plans. Gilbert and I are heading down to Sicily now to visit a friend. We won't be there long and I'm sure we'll still be able to get to Vienna on time. The address to the place we'll be staying is on the front of the envelope. Since we'll only be here for a week, there's no need to write back now. I'll see you on the 29th!_

_-Elizabeta  
_

* * *

"The fuck is with all this traffic?" Gilbert moaned, "Did the pope die or something?" Elizabeta ground her teeth together to keep from snapping at him and instead leaned towards their taxi driver.

"Excuse me sir, is there no other way we can get to the hostel from here?" she asked. They were moving at a snail's pace and had been for the past hour. It didn't help that it was an unnaturally hot day and even with all the windows down, the inside of the car was like an oven. If they didn't start getting somewhere soon, Elizabeta was going to strangle Gilbert and then walk to the hostel herself.

"Nope," the driver answered shortly.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes." Elizabeta sighed and leaned back in her seat. It was hopeless. She ignored Gilbert's continued complaints and looked out the window for the 100th time at the streets of Palermo, Sicily. She had expected terracotta roofs and rough cobblestone streets but the south was much more modern that romance writers gave it credit for. In fact, the car had been sitting in front of a Sephora for the better part of twenty minutes. Elizabeta guessed that she could go in, shop, and still come out to find that the traffic had not moved a centimeter.

"The fuck are you doing?" Gilbert yelled at the car next to them, which was attempting to pass in front of them despite the lack of available space. "What the fuck? Are you fucking blind?" He leaned towards the front seat. "Are you just going to let them fucking do that?" He yelled at the driver, once again forgetting that he didn't speak Italian.

"Miss, please tell your friend to stay in his seat," the driver said in his clipped tone. The southern dialect still confused Elizabeta but she knew enough to get the general meaning. She pulled Gilbert back into his seat.

"Don't you know it's not safe to distract the driver?" she said, sharply.

"But we're not even fucking going anywhere!"

"It doesn't matter. Stay in your seat and shut up," she said. The heat was making her irritable and snappish, although, even on a cool day, she and Gilbert were usually fighting.

She still hadn't told him the true nature of their visit to Palermo. She had promised Feliciano that she wouldn't, but she always had a hard time keeping secrets from her best friend. If Gilbert didn't tease her into telling, he usually found out his own way. Elizabeta just hoped that she would be able to find Lovino quickly and convince him to return to Venice within the week. She had told Roderich that they would be in Vienna by the 29th, but that seemed less likely now.

"What the hell is he doing?" the taxi driver suddenly yelled. Elizabeta glanced at Gilbert but he was slumped down in his seat, sulking.

"Excuse me?" she said. The driver pointed out the window.

"What the hell is that kid doing?" he said again. It took her a few seconds to see what he was pointing at, but then she saw that, running towards them, was a young man who was being chased by two uniformed men. He weaved expertly through the traffic, leaping over car hoods and avoiding people on bikes, the men behind him struggling to keep up.

"Who are those people chasing him?" Elizabeta asked. The man was still too far away to see his face yet, there was something oddly familiar about him.

The driver gave her a look. "Who do you think? The police. He must be a criminal. Only a criminal would run like that."

"Why doesn't anyone stop him?"

The man gave her another look. "Tourists," he muttered, shaking his head. Elizabeta frowned at him and turned back towards the man. He was getting closer to them, but the police were catching up to him as well. Suddenly, he was close enough for Elizabeta to see her face and her jaw dropped.

"It's Feliciano!" she shrieked. "Gilbert! It's Feliciano!" Gilbert leaped up from his seat and shoved his way next to her so that he could see.

"Could you both sit down and stop yelling?" the driver snapped. They ignored him.

"What the fuck?" Gilbert said, "Why is he here? And why are those men chasing him?"

"I don't know, but I'm not going to let them catch him," Elizabeta said. Ignoring the driver's protests, she climbed into the front seat and swung the door open. Feliciano was only a few meters away, but the police were right behind and she waved frantically in his direction.

"Feliciano!" she yelled. "Over here!" He looked up at the name, saw her waving and after hesitating for a second, headed in her direction.

"Are you crazy?" the taxi driver yelled. "Do you want to get shot?"

"Can it, man. That's our friend." Gilbert snapped. Elizabeta slid back to her seat as Feliciano finally reached them. He scrambled into the seat, the driver shouting furiously as he slammed the door.

"Get the hell out of my car!"

"Shut the fuck up and fucking drive!" Feliciano said, except, it wasn't Feliciano's voice. The man turned around and Elizabeta realized that she had made a big mistake.

"You're not Feliciano!"

"No shit," he said before turning back to the driver. "I said drive!"

"To where? There's nowhere to go!"

"I'm surrounded by idiots." Without warning, the man pushed the driver aside, grabbed the steering wheel and slammed his foot on the gas pedal. They flew onto the curb, causing people to scream and leap out of the way as they tried to avoid being run over.

"Are you crazy?" the driver yelled as the man spun the wheel and they turned sharply onto the next street. He ignored this as he steered the taxi around sign posts and benches, the side of the car scraping dangerously against the buildings they passed.

"What the hell is Feliciano doing?" Gilbert yelled as they rounded another corner. Elizabeta screamed as she fell against the window. She groaned as Gilbert fell on top of her.

"That's not Feliciano!" she shouted into his ear.

"Are you kidding? But he looks just like him!"

"I know! But it's not him!" They both screamed as they were thrown to the opposite side of the car.

"Then who is it?" Gilbert yelled. Suddenly, they were both flung forward as the car came to screeching halt. Elizabeta only barely kept herself from flying out the window by grabbing the back of the front seats. She heard Gilbert swear as his head hit the roof of the car. With a groan, she pulled herself back into a sitting position and glanced out the window to see where they were. They were in front of a stoplight on a completely clear street. They had left the traffic jam behind them.

The man slid back into his seat. "When the light turns green, drive," he said.

"Are you insane?" the driver screamed. "Do you know what you just did? Do you know what you've done to my car?"

"I don't really give a shit." The light turned green. "Now drive."

The driver grabbed the door handle. "Fuck you." He froze at the sound of a soft click and Elizabeta gasped as the man pulled out a gun from inside his jacket.

"Shit," Gilbert whispered from the back seat.

"I said, drive," he said. Shaking, the driver let go of the door handle and did as he was told.

"Just keep heading north," the man said. He turned to Elizabeta and she felt a shiver run down her back when she saw the coldness in his green eyes. How could she have made such a mistake? Feliciano's eyes were brown.

"But you look just like him..." she said softly. "But you're not Feliciano. So who are you?"

"How do you know Feliciano?" he asked.

"He's a friend," Elizabeta said. "How do you know Feliciano?"

"None of your business." He turned back to the driver. "At the next light, turn left." He looked out the window and, with that small movement of his head, Elizabeta saw the curl at the top of his head and realized just who she was talking to.

"Oh my God, you're Lovino," she said. The man's head whipped back around and he glared at her through narrowed eyes.

"How do you know that name?" he asked. "Answer me now!"

Elizabeta didn't hear the command, still shocked by this revelation. "You're twins! He never said you were twins! But I thought you were his older brother?"

"Older by 10 minutes," Lovino muttered. His eyes widened when he realized that he had given himself away. "Shit."

"You _are_ Lovino!" Elizabeta said, excitedly. "Gilbert! It's Lovino!"

"The brother?"

"Yes!

"Shut up, both of you!" Lovino yelled. "How the fuck do you know who I am?"

"Your brother told us about you! We came to Palermo to find you!" Elizabeta said. "Feliciano wants you to come home."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Not this again. I can't believe he actually hired someone to come after me this time."

"But he didn't—" Elizabeta froze as Lovino turned the gun towards her.

"Listen here," he said, his voice harsh and cold. "Get the fuck out of this city and go back to Venice and tell that idiot of a brother of mine that he should just give up. I'm not coming back."

"But—" Lovino leaned forward so that the end of the gun was only a breath away from Elizabeta's chest. Although her whole body was shaking she refused to look down and kept her eyes locked with his. For a second, he looked almost impressed by her before his face became calm and impassive.

"Don't make me say it again," he said, softer this time. He turned to the driver. "Stop here." The car screeched to a halt and Lovino stepped out.

"We won't be seeing each other again. _Ciao_," he said over his shoulder before taking off down the street. Elizabeta watched him go and didn't realize that she had stopped breathing until Gilbert smacked her on the back, causing her to break into a fit of wheezing and coughing

"The hell was that for?" she said, angrily.

"You were turning blue."

"Both of you get out of my car!" the driver yelled.

"But we still need to get to our hostel!" Elizabeta protested.

"Not my problem. You let that fucking maniac into my car, which is now probably ruined forever. Get out!"

"Do you still want us to pay you?" Gilbert asked.

"OUT!" They grabbed their bags and scrambled out of the car.

"I would have paid him," Gilbert said as they watched the car speed off. Elizabeta raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"No. Dude was a dick. But that's not the problem right now." Gilbert turned to her and she was shocked by the angry look on his face. "What the fuck was that?"

"What?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Don't play innocent with me, Elizabeta. You told me we were coming to visit Feliciano's brother. Why didn't you tell me that he was a wanted criminal?"

Elizabeta bit her lip and looked down. "Because I promised Feliciano I wouldn't."

"So you lied to me? You're best friend?" Gilbert sounded more hurt than angry and Elizabeta felt that she would drown in the guilt that was sweeping over her.

"I was going to tell you," she said, quietly.

"Tell me when? When you ended up with a bullet in your chest from chasing some mafia punk? I can't believe you would keep something like this from me!"

"I'm sorry, Gilbert. I didn't mean to. I didn't know it was going to be like this." It was true. She had though Feliciano was exaggerating when he said that she would be facing danger, but now, after coming face to face with a real gun, she was beginning to understand the consequences of what she had signed up for.

"How can you say that? Haven't you ever heard of 'think before you act'?" Elizabeta frowned and shook a finger in Gilbert's face.

"You are the last person who should be talking to me like that. I'm the sensible one!" she said.

"Yeah and look where your sensibilities have gotten us," Gilbert said, gesturing around them. "We're in the middle of fuck if I know. Great job, Elizabeta. Great job."

"You can go to hell." Elizabeta snapped. She grabbed her bags and began walking in the other direction.

"Hey! Don't you walk away from me! I wasn't done yet!"

"I don't care!" Elizabeta yelled over her shoulder. "I'm doing this whether I have your approval or not. If you don't want to help, me you can just go home."

Gilbert stared at her retreating back for a few seconds before he grabbed his bags and ran after her.

"Like hell I'm going to leave you here alone," he said when he caught up. "West would kick my ass."

"Gilbert, I'm going to save Lovino. One way or the other," Elizabeta said as they walked.

"Even after he just pulled a gun on you?" She nodded. If anything, she wanted to help him even more now.

"So what's the plan?" Gilbert asked.

"It's a work-in-progress."

"You've got nothing."

"Shut up."

* * *

They didn't reach the hostel until night fall and even though she was exhausted, Elizabeta could barely sleep. The next morning, she slipped out of the room before Gilbert woke up and, after obtaining a map from the front desk, she headed out into the city. The weather was still very warm so she had chosen to wear a sleeveless sundress. She had almost worn a sunhat but thought it too fancy.

Palermo was more modern than she had imagined but as she traveled further out of the city center, she found that there were still areas that fit her, if a little strange, image of 'classic' Sicily. By noon, she found herself across the street from a busy outdoor market. All around her people moved at their own pace. She could barely understand anything, although she caught a few random words here and there. She was grateful for the noise. There were too many things running through her mind at the moment and she needed a distraction.

Elizabeta sighed as she leaned against the wall of a small shop, the outdoor canopy providing a grateful relief from the hot sun. She wondered exactly she was doing. She had come out here with no plan and although she hated to admit that Gilbert was right, little forethought. She obviously couldn't give up now, but she had no idea what to do next. Without thinking, she scanned the multitudes of shops and stalls spread before her. Something caught her eyes and caused her push off the building and step out of the shade. At the edge of the market was a small sitting area comprised of tables and benches. Seated at one of the tables was a man who looked more than a little familiar. His hat was pulled down to cover his face, but she was almost certain that she knew who he was. Elizabeta quickly checked to make sure the road was clear before she crossed the street, fully convinced that it was him by the time she reached the tables. So as not to frighten him, she sat down slowly at the table besides him.

Although the newspaper in front of him was open, Lovino didn't seem to be reading it. She couldn't see his eyes but she recognized his agitated posture and knew that his mind was a million miles away when he was still on the same page five minutes later.

She hesitated to speak to him because she knew that she would have to choose her words carefully. Unless she wanted to be staring down the barrel of another gun, she had to make sure Lovino knew that she was on his side. She had to make him trust her.

"Do you come here often?" she asked, in English. She did this purposely to keep him at ease. He would probably think her some silly tourist.

"No English," he muttered without looking up. "Fuck off."

"Well, that's isn't a very nice way to speak to someone you just met," she said, in Italian this time. He recognized her voice immediately and his head snapped up, his green eyes wide in surprise.

"You!" he hissed. "How the fuck did you find me?"

She gave him a small smile. "It wasn't too difficult. I actually didn't expect you to be sitting so much in the open." She lowered her voice. "Especially since you're a wanted criminal."

"You stay away from me," Lovino said, angrily. "I don't know what that idiot of a brother sent you down here to do but you should just give up." He stood up from the table and headed down the street. Elizabeta was right behind him.

"Feliciano didn't send me here," she said, struggling to keep up with him while avoiding being trampled by the large crowd.

"Smartest thing he's ever done," Lovino muttered. He turned suddenly and Elizabeta almost lost him as a sudden stream of people cut between them. She saw his wayward curl bobbing through the air and quickly pushed her way towards him.

"Your brother believes that you're a good person," she said when she had caught up with him. He was picking up his pace and she knew that she had to talk fast. "I want to believe that too, Lovino. But I can't unless you let me help you."

"I already told you, I don't need your fucking help." They had left the large crowds behind them. Lovino turned onto an almost completely empty street and a horrifying thought struck Elizabeta. Could he possibly be leading her to some deserted corner where he would silence her forever? She knew he had a gun and he obviously wasn't hesitant to threaten with it. But would he actually use it? He was Feliciano's brother, but she couldn't forget that he was also a criminal and that he had probably killed before and could kill her. Remembering her promise to Feliciano, she swallowed her fears and refocused on her goal.

"You sure looked like you could use some help yesterday," she said. "The least you could do is say thank you."

He didn't answer and turned onto another street. She followed him and suddenly found herself out of the sun. They had entered a shaded alley. Elizabeta's stomach twisted nervously, but Lovino was still walking quickly in front of her. Her better judgment told her to go back to the crowds, the market and safety. But she ignored these sensible urges and continued after Lovino. She reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. He clearly hadn't been expecting this and he stopped at stared at her with a mixture of anger and curiosity.

"Look me in the eye and tell me that you don't need help," she said. "Do it."

She saw what she thought was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, but before he could speak, there came the sound of footsteps and they both turned to see that two men had entered the alley in front of them. They were both well-dressed, but Elizabeta knew immediately that they were dangerous. Her feelings were confirmed when she felt Lovino tense up next to her.

"We didn't expect to see you here Vargas," one of the men said. "This isn't your area."

"I don't know who you are but it's not yours either," Lovino said, confidently, but he still took a step backwards as the men drew closer.

"It will be soon enough."

"It's neutral ground for now, so fuck off." Lovino said, taking another step back and then another. Elizabeta saw out of the corner of her eye that they were only about 10 steps from the alley entrance and that they could run for it, but, if these men were as dangerous as she believed, that would most likely only result in a bullet to the back. Lovino was moving slowly and he whispered instructions in English to her out of the corner of his mouth.

"When I say so," another step back, "you run. Don't stop. Don't look back. Run."

"What about you?" she whispered.

"I'll be right behind you." Five steps from the entrance now.

The man who had spoken first grinned. "Whatever you two are planning won't save you, Vargas. You've had this coming for a long time. We're going to be rewarded handsomely for getting rid of you." His hand went inside his jacket at the same time Lovino screamed "Run!" Elizabeta didn't hesitate and ran. She stepped back into the sunlight at the same time she heard the sound of gunshots behind her. She froze and almost ran back, but then Lovino burst out of the alley. His gun was in his hand, but her heart leapt at the sight of him.

"Run! Go, go, go!" he yelled. "Back to the market!"

Elizabeta took off running. She glanced back once to see that the men were right behind them. This made her blood run cold and she almost tripped on the pavement.

"Faster, damn you! Don't look back!" Lovino yelled. Elizabeta sped up, not sure she even knew where she was going. She screamed as a bullet hit the street not ten meters away from her.

"Bastards!" she heard Lovino swear. Elizabeta reached the end of the street and turned right, only to find herself back among the crowds. Almost gleefully, she dived back into the sea of people, glancing back only to make sure Lovino was still behind her. He was and so were the two men. And unfortunately, it didn't seem that the crowds were going to stop them.

"Where are we going?" Elizabeta yelled over her shoulder.

"Just keep going straight," Lovino said. "And don't look back!" They ran past the fruit stalls, past the fish stalls, past the tables where she had found him. They ran until Lovino grabbed her hand and pulled her into a building, which she realized was a small hotel. The man at the front desk glared at them angrily as they ran into the lobby, but anything he might have wanted to say died on his lips when he saw the gun in Lovino's hand. He had lived in Palermo his whole life and knew enough to keep quiet and ducked down behind his desk.

Elizabeta heard gasps from the people around them but Lovino didn't slow down. He pulled her up a winding staircase and they ran until they reached the very top. Elizabeta risked a glance down and gasped out loud when she saw that the two men had entered the lobby. Lovino swore and pulled her down the hallway. When they reached the last door, he pushed it open, revealing a small, cramped room. Gathered in the room was a group of people and they stared when the two of them burst in.

An older man stood up and marched over to them. "What is the meaning of—" he stopped when Lovino held up his gun. The rest of the people in the room gasped and drew closer together.

"Point me to the balcony. Now," Lovino said. The man only gaped at the weapon, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"Now!" Elizabeta yelled, snapping the man out of his stupor. He pointed a shaking hand towards a side door.

"T-through t-there," he stammered.

"Thank you," Elizabeta said over her shoulder as Lovino pulled her towards the door. It led to an outdoor balcony with a beautiful view that, any other time, Elizabeta would have loved to stop and admire but barely noticed as she ran to the edge.

"What now?" she asked when they had reached the end of the balcony. Lovino pointed at one of the stone columns that held up the roof.

"We go up," he said.

Elizabeta stared at him. "You have to be kidding me."

"Fucking climb," Lovino snapped.

"Damn it!" Elizabeta said as she swung herself onto the ledge. She wrapped her arms around the column and shimmed up, grateful for the first time in her life for the physical education classes in grade school and for her decision to wear shorts underneath her dress.

Panting from exhaustion, she pulled herself onto the flat roof. Lovino was right behind her and she reached down to help him up. Grudgingly, he took her hand. She almost dropped him when they heard the sounds of screams from back inside the hotel room.

"We need to keep going," Lovino said. Elizabeta didn't bother asking where. The buildings in the area were roughly the same size and closely spaced. When she had reached the edge of the roof of the hotel, she took a deep breath, and jumped onto the roof of the next building. She landed unsteadily, but quickly took off running again. She figured that they would roof hop until they reached somewhere safe. The sound of a gunshot echoed behind them and Elizabeta turned in horror to see that the men were climbing onto the roof of the hotel.

"Persistent assholes!" Lovino yelled, firing back. Elizabeta, distracted by her own fears and the scene behind her, didn't realize that they were running out of roofs. So when she reached the edge, she was still running and realized too late that there was nothing except air in front of her. Lovino grabbed her hand, but he couldn't slow down in time and he fell after her and they both tumbled, screaming, into the dark water below them.

.

.

.

Gilbert was sitting on his bunk, flipping through one of his magazines when Elizabeta stepped into the room. He took one look at her and burst out laughing.

"Shut up!" she snapped.

"I didn't know you wanted to go to the beach that bad, Liz!" Gilbert cackled. "I know you're modest, but really, who goes swimming fully clothed? Nice bra choice by the way." He laughed harder.

"If you knew what I've been through today, you wouldn't be laughing," Elizabeta snapped.

"Well, I'm all ears," Gilbert said. "But first, get a towel; you're making a puddle on the floor. And what is that smell?" Muttering curses, Elizabeta moved away from the door and Gilbert noticed for the first time that she wasn't alone.

"You found him!" Gilbert said, pointing to an equally drenched Lovino, who only scowled in reply. "What the hell? Did you go swimming together? Why wasn't I invited?"

"We didn't go swimming," Elizabeta said from the bathroom. She came out with a towel on her head and another in her hand, which she tossed to Lovino. "We fell in a river."

"Is that a euphemism for something?"

"Gilbert!"

"Sorry, but just how did you accomplish this?"

"Give me a chance to take a shower and change into some dry clothes and I'll tell you," Elizabeta said. "Lovino, there's another bathroom down the hall. Gilbert, can you lend him something to wear?"

"No problem." Gilbert crouched down and reached beneath his bed and pulled out his suitcase. "My clothes will probably a little big though."

"I don't care," Lovino muttered.

When they were both clean and back in dry clothes, Elizabeta recounted to Gilbert how her and Lovino had been chased by a pair of would-be assassins and had ended up falling into the Fiume Oreto.

"I don't even know how we managed to get back here," Elizabeta said. She was still in a daze.

"I don't know how you managed to not get shot. Damn it, Elizabeta, can you not blindly throw yourself into danger?" She smiled warmly at him.

"Thanks for the concern, Gilbert. You don't have to worry about me."

Gilbert snorted. "I'm not. It's just, if anything happened to you, Ludwig would put the holds back on my bank account." Elizabeta threw her towel at his face.

"Did you guys at least make sure you weren't followed back here?" Gilbert said. "I don't really feel like getting knifed in my sleep tonight."

"Don't joke around like that, Gilbert!" Elizabeta said sharply. There had been many times in the past few hours when she had actually believed that she would die. The worst had been the fall off the roof. She had had no idea that there was a river at the bottom and had thought that she was falling to her death. Any relief that she had felt when she hit the water had been lost in the crushing darkness of it and fast current. In her panicked state, she had begun to sink and had only been saved by Lovino who had still been holding her hand. He had pulled her through the water until she thought her lungs would explode. When they had finally surfaced, they had both been spluttering and coughing violently. It wasn't until they had swum to the shore that Elizabeta had realized just how far the river had carried them. Unless the men had jumped into the water after them, it was unlikely that they would catch them now, that was if they didn't they were dead from the fall. It all made her shiver and made Gilbert stop joking when he saw just how deeply affected she was. He had never seen his friend so shaken. To him, she was always so bold and fearless. He never thought he would see her look actually scared.

He reached into his bag and pulled out a clean towel.

"Here," he said, throwing it at her. "You're hair is still wet. And you don't have to worry that pretty little head of yours anymore. I've got your back, okay? We'll get through this." Elizabeta gave him a small smile from beneath the towel.

"Thanks Gilbert," she said. "Oh and Lovino will be staying the night. It's not safe for him to try and get home now."

"I figured. He can sleep in my bed with—" Elizabeta gave him a warning look, "—and I'll sleep on the floor."

Lovino only stared at the ground. He hadn't said word, not even during Elizabeta's story.

"You're brother was much more talkative," Gilbert said.

"My brother's a fucking idiot," Lovino said. He stood up and climbed into Gilbert's bed. He pulled the blankets over his head and said no more.

"What did I say?" Gilbert asked. Elizabeta shook her head.

"Just leave him alone," she said, in German. "He's been through a lot. We both have."

"And you're still going to help him?"

"Yes."

Gilbert sighed and crossed his arms. "I don't know, Elizabeta. None of this seems very awesome to me. And you still don't have a plan, do you?"

She blushed. "I'm getting there!" Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "Well I am! Gilbert, I can't just leave him. He saved my life."

"Sweet. Buy him a thank you card."

"Gilbert!"

"He almost got you killed!"

"It wasn't his fault!" Elizabeta said, angrily.

"No, it was yours for being stupid enough to go after him."

"I'm not going to argue with you about this again. I've already told you that I'm not leaving Sicily."

Gilbert stood up from the floor. "Damn you're stubborn." She stuck her tongue out at him.

"I learned from the best," she said.

"You're lucky I'm such a nice and understanding friend. Most people would have dumped your crazy ass by now but I'm much more awesome than that. Anyway, I'm starving. Is it safe for me to go downstairs and get something to eat?"

She nodded. "Yes, I suppose. Just hurry back."

"Don't worry. If I see any big guys wearing black suits and carrying baseball bats, I'll come tell you," Gilbert said, grinning, before he closed the door.

"That moron…" Elizabeta muttered. She glanced at Lovino, wondering if she should say something. She still owed him her thanks for saving her life. She had no clue why he had done it. Deciding that it could be saved for later, she packed up the wet towels on the ground and grabbed her and Lovino's wet clothes, intent of hanging them up to dry in the laundry room. When she grabbed Lovino's shirt, she felt something that made her eyebrows shoot up. She quickly made a decision and scooped up the shirt into the pile in her arms. She checked to make sure that Lovino hadn't noticed and then quietly left the room. She was shaking slightly when she returned, but she told herself that she had done the right thing.

With a sigh, Elizabeta sat down on her bed and waited for Gilbert to come back.

* * *

The first rays of sunlight had only just trickled into the room the next morning when Elizabeta heard Lovino slip out of bed. She lay still as she heard him throw his own clothes, which she had placed at the foot of the bed in the same condition that she had found them, hoping he would believe that they had been there the whole time and that they had dried overnight. When he left the room she counted to ten before she got out of bed, found her shoes and hurried after him. He was already out of the hostel and halfway down the street. She stopped a few meters away from him.

"Wait," she called. His hands flew to his pants and, as she had expected, he pulled out his gun.

"For the last time, leave me alone!" he said, angrily.

"You gonna shoot me, Lovino?" Elizabeta asked, calmly. They were the only two people on the street. She guessed that it couldn't be past 6 a.m.

"I don't want to shoot a lady, but I will if you make me," he said.

"That will be slightly difficult," Elizabeta said as she reached slowly into her pocket, "if you don't have these." She held up the bullets that she had taken from his gun the night before.

Lovino's eyes widened. "When did you—?" She told him and he cursed himself for being so careless.

"Give them back," Lovino said. Elizabeta noted the slight whine in his voice. He really was just a boy.

"First, we talk," she said.

"I have nothing to say to you."

Elizabeta smiled. "That's fine. I'll do the talking." Lovino glared at her but he finally lowered his gun.

"Damn you," he said before walking off in the other direction. He stopped after a few meters and turned back to her. "Are you coming or not?"

Elizabeta's smiled widened and she ran after him.

.

.

.

They ended up on another rooftop, but this time there was no running and Elizabeta got the pleasure of seeing the sun rise over the city of Palermo. They say quietly at the edge, letting their feet dangle in the air until the sun had fully risen and Lovino began to complain.

"Are we just going to sit here all day or are you going to actually say something?"

"I'm thinking," Elizabeta said.

"About?"

"How I'm going to save you."

Lovino groaned. "Not that again. I already told you that I don't need saving."

"Really, Lovino?" she said, leaning towards him.

"Really."

"Look me in the eye and say that." He kept his eyes firmly on the horizon. "Look at me."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because?"

Lovino threw his hands in the air. "Because this is stupid! Even if I did need saving, which I don't, who the fuck are you that you think you can do it? If Feliciano didn't already tell you, I'm sure by now that you know I'm not part of some dumb street gang."

"I know that," Elizabeta said.

"So you should also know that it's impossible to get out. Even if I wanted to go back to Venice, which I don't, the only way I could at this point would be in a body bag."

"Can't you run away?" Lovino snorted.

"And I though blonds were dumb," he muttered. She frowned and leaned over to pinch him. "What was that for?" he yelled, rubbing his arm.

"For being a brat. You're worse than Gilbert. Can you stop sulking for a second and actually tell me how you got in this mess? Feliciano said that you only came down here in the first place because you promised your grandfather something. How did you end up being a part of one of the world's most notorious criminal organizations?"

"That's none of your business."

"I'll pinch you again."

"Leave me alone. Why do you care so much anyway? How long did you even know my brother?"

"About a week," Elizabeta admitted.

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "A week? And you agreed to come down here for him?"

"I didn't agree to anything. I volunteered."

"That was stupid. Why the hell would you do that?"

"Do you want to know why I was in Venice in the first place?"

"Not really."

"I'll tell you anyway." Elizabeta smiled. She always got a little feeling of joy when she explained her plan. "I was looking for true love."

"That's probably the stupidest thing you've said today. DON'T PINCH ME AGAIN."

Elizabeta scowled at him. "I wasn't going to, but I might. Anyway, as I was saying, I was looking for true love. Do you believe in that?"

"Hell no."

"Neither do most people. To a lot of people, there's not a lot of good left in this world either."

"There isn't."

"Well I believe there is. You can call me dumb or naive, but it's not going to change my mind. I want to believe in the goodness of people. And because of this, I couldn't do anything except tell your brother that I would come down here to get you. He believes in you, Lovino. A lot."

"Stop."

"If he didn't, he wouldn't have been trying so hard all of these years to bring you home."

"I said stop!" Lovino turned to her and she saw that his eyes had a glassy sheen to them. "I don't want to hear anymore. My brother's the stupidest person in the world. Go back to Venice and tell him this: I'm not a good person. And I don't want to be. I've done terrible things. I've killed people. I could push you off this roof right now and walk away."

"But you won't," Elizabeta said.

"How the hell do you know that?"

"Because, like your brother, I believe that you do have goodness in you. You want to know how I know this?"

"How?"

"Because you saved my life yesterday. You didn't have to, but you did. Why?" Lovino blushed and turned back to staring at the view.

"Well, er, I couldn't just leave you there. It's not like I care what happens to you, I don't even know you, but you're not involved in any of this and it would have been stupid if you got hurt by being in the way. Although you kind of deserve it for being so nosy. Don't you understand how dangerous it is for you to even be here with me?"

"I'm beginning to, but I think it's worth the risk. I'm a good judge of character—Gilbert doesn't count—so believe me when I say that you're a good person, Lovino. And because of this, I can't give up on you."

Lovino sighed. "Do you really believe all that?" he asked. Elizabeta nodded.

"Yes. So why don't you tell me how all this started?"

Lovino sighed again. "Damn it…fine! Before Grandpa died he asked to see me, alone. He told me that he needed someone to make sure that all his affairs were in order. He had already set everything up with a lawyer, but he said that these were different and only someone in the family could do it. He couldn't send Feliciano, and I was the only one left who he trusted to do this for him. My brother and I knew about his other life but he always tried to keep us away from it. He said that he didn't want us getting involved and even sent us to America for a year when things got really bad once. This was the first time he had ever asked that one of us get directly involved with 'the family'." Lovino's shoulders fell slightly. "And he chose me of course. He said Feliciano wasn't strong enough. Which is true, he probably would have just cried. I was always having to take care of him. I didn't want to come here, but Grandpa made me promise. He said I only had to sign some papers and then I would be done. I believed him and that's what I told Feliciano. But I should have known better. Just because he was a powerful figure of the criminal underground didn't mean that Grandpa wasn't an idiot. We're different from most families, who usually elect their leaders yearly. We're more old fashioned and the position is usually inherited. Grandpa died without formally naming an heir and so it was assumed that Feliciano would be to take over because he was the oldest."

"But I thought you were the oldest?" Elizabeta said, confused.

"I am, which is why Grandpa was an idiot. He probably was thinking of Feliciano at the time—he was always thinking about Feliciano—and accidently put him down as the oldest in the documents he set up. Because he had never told them that he didn't plan on either Feliciano or I to getting involved in the family business they all just thought that Feliciano would inherit Grandpa's role. I don't know how it happened, it was all so fast, but I ended up convincing them that Feliciano had died and I was the one who would take Grandpa's spot."

Elizabeta's eyebrows rose. "How did you do that?"

"I had a friend back home who helped me out. He even forged a fake death certificate for Feliciano and sent it to me."

"But why didn't you just tell them truth?"

"Because it was already too late! Because Grandpa never told them his plan they thought they were just following his orders. By the time I got down here everything was already a mess. If I hadn't done anything, other families would have taken the opportunity to move into our area and innocent people would have been killed over some stupid territory. And I couldn't have actually let Feliciano inherit Grandpa's role. He's too much a baby and would have messed everything up even worse and probably would have gotten himself killed his first day down here. I had to be the one." Lovino's jaw trembled. "And now I'm stuck here forever."

Elizabeta reached over and took his hands. He stared at her and her heart nearly broke when she saw the hopelessness in his eyes.

"No you're not. I'm going to help you escape," she said.

"I already told you that it's impossible."

"The word impossible is not in my dictionary. Is that why you kept sending Feliciano away all those time he came down?"

Lovino nodded. "That idiot. He is supposed to be dead. If he kept showing up here, eventually someone would have noticed and it would have been a big mess."

"You should have told him."

"He wouldn't have understood. And I didn't want him to know what I did because then he would have known that I'm not good and it would have broken his stupid little heart."

"How can you not think that you're a good person, Lovino? You gave up everything to save your brother and to keep innocent people from dying. You're a wonderful person." Lovino blushed.

"Don't say dumb things like that," he murmured, pulling his hands away.

"But I can't do anything until you tell me yourself that you need my help. Do you need my help, Lovino? Do you want to escape this city and go back to Venice?"

Lovino hesitated. "I…I do." Elizabeta grinned.

"Then it's settled!"

"But you don't even have a plan!"

"I'll make one up as we go." Lovino gave her a skeptical look but before he could say anything a ringing sound came from his pocket. He reached in and pulled out a cell phone.

"Has that been there the whole time? How is it still working?" Elizabeta asked. Lovino shrugged. "Well, who's calling?"

"Who do you think?"

"Um, Feliciano?"

"No. I've changed my number twice because of him. It's my Boss. Stefano Lima."

"Who?"

"The head of the family."

"But I thought you were in charge!"

"I will be, but when I first accepted the position, it was thought that I was too young and 'inexperienced' to take over. He was the second in command under my Grandpa and is acting a placeholder until I'm old enough. It doesn't stop him from being a bastard. Now shut up." Lovino flipped open the phone and put it to his ear.

"Hello?" he said, his voice suddenly cold. "I've been occupied…it's not your concern…your threats don't work on me anymore….I don't care…I'll be there within the hour." He hung up and without warning, dropped the phone over the edge of the building. "Woops," he said flatly.

"What did he want?" Elizabeta asked.

"He wanted to know where I've been. I didn't tell him so he's angry now."

"Are you going to get in trouble?" Lovino shook his head.

"No. He can make all the stupid threats he wants but he knows he can't do anything to me."

"I actually have a question for you. Who were those men that were chasing us yesterday?"

"No clue."

"They're not part of some rival family?"

"Not that I know of. It was a sick coincidence that I was even in that area. I had only gone out there to do a friend a favor." Lovino swung his legs over the edge and stood up on the roof. "I should get going."

Elizabeta stood up as well. "I'm coming with you," She said, suddenly. Lovino looked at her in surprise and she didn't blame him. She was surprised with herself. "I want to meet them, the family."

"Are you insane? No. It's out of the question. Do you know how many rules I've broken today?"

"But you said yourself that you won't get in trouble."

"Doesn't mean I won't have a shitstorm thrown my way! Just because Lima can't directly hurt me doesn't mean he can't make me suffer. You have no idea what sort of jobs he could assign me. You wouldn't be allowed in the house anyway since you have no ties with the family."

Elizabeta thought quickly. "What if…what if I was your girlfriend?"

"…say what?"

"Yeah, or better yet, your fiancé! Could I get in then?"

"No because that makes no sense and no one would believe it," he said. Elizabeta put her hands on her hips.

"Why? I'm not pretty enough for you?" She almost grinned at how red he turned.

"N-no! I mean, when I saw him three days ago I wasn't engaged. Won't it seem just a little suspicious if I suddenly turn up with a fiancé?"

"You could say that it was love at first sight." Lovino gave her a look. "What? It happens."

"Not to me. It'll be too strange. It will never work. Ow!" Elizabeta had pinched him again. "Will you stop that?"

"I will when you stop being Mr. Negativity! How will you know unless you try?"

"I don't need to try to know that it's a stupid idea! What will you gain by coming with me anyway?"

"I'll know who I'm up against."

"It's the Mafia," Lovino said bluntly. "I thought we'd made that clear."

"I meant personally. If I can meet this guy face to face then I'll have an idea of what to do next."

Lovino shook his head. "You have to be the craziest woman I've ever met. Of all the people in the world, why did Feliciano have to meet you?"

Elizabeta laughed. "It was fate I guess. Some divine intervention."

"Or satanic," Lovino muttered to himself.

"What was that?"

"I said we should get going."

"So I can come along?" Elizabeta said happily.

"Even if I said no you would just follow me anyway and probably get yourself killed. Then I would have to deal with Feliciano again. Just don't speak and let me do the talking. It will be a miracle if this works out." Lovino said as they headed down the stairs.

"Got it, _sweetie_," Elizabeta said, grinning. Lovino made a face.

"For the love of God, don't talk like that. Where's your ring by the way? You know the one I would have proposed to you with?"

"How about this?" Elizabeta took off the ring Gilbert had given her for her last birthday. It was a simple gold band with a small diamond and, at the time, she had actually thought that he was proposing. It didn't help that he got on one knee to give it to her. He had thought it all one big joke. She had smacked him with a pillow. "Will it work?"

"The diamond is too small, but I suppose so. Just don't go waving it around. And stop looking so smiley. We're not going to an amusement park. There's nothing to be happy about." Elizabeta tried to look solemn but the corners of her mouth kept curving up.

"I can't help it! I'm just so happy that we're finally getting somewhere."

"I can assure you that you won't be so happy in the next hour."

* * *

By the time they reached the house, all traces of the smile had left Elizabeta's face. She was too nervous to do anything except stare as they approached a beautiful villa that had been built overlooking the sea. The taxi that had driven them there dropped them off in front of the gates before speeding off.

"He was in a hurry," Elizabeta said.

"He knows who lives here," Lovino said. "Usually, I would have called a private car but I don't have a phone anymore." He went to the intercom on the gate and pressed the button. "It's Romano," he said. "and I have…a guest. She's important. I'll explain inside." This must have been good enough for the gatekeeper because the heavy gate creaked open seconds later. Lovino took Elizabeta's hand. "Come on. He's waiting."

"I thought your name was Lovino," Elizabeta said as they walked down the path to the villa.

"It is."

"So what's Romano? Some code name?"

"If you want to call it that. No one calls me Lovino here and you shouldn't either. Now stop asking questions." They reached the front doors and, before Elizabeta could ask if Lovino would knock, they swung open and a short man in an expensive looking suit stood before them. He ignored Elizabeta and frowned at Lovino.

"You're late," he said.

"I don't really give a shit," Lovino said.

"What happened to your phone? He's been trying to reach you."

"I lost it."

"How convenient. Get in here." They followed the man through a long marble hallway that was lined with portraits of scowling men. Elizabeta felt more than a little self conscious as her heels clicked loudly against the marble floor.

"Who's the girl?" the man said, suddenly, startling Elizabeta who hadn't realized that he had noticed her.

"My…fiancé," Lovino said in a more strained manner than Elizabeta thought was appropriate considering that most people tended be happy when they were engaged.

"You're shitting me. How long have you known each other?"

"Two days," Lovino said through clenched teeth.

"It was love at first sight," Elizabeta piped up. The man looked at her for the first time and she tried not to blink as she was appraised by a pair of cold, dark eyes.

"I see." He turned to Lovino. "So when were you going to tell him this wonderful news?" he said mockingly.

"When I felt like it. I don't need his approval to get engaged." The man ignored this and turned back to Elizabeta.

"What's your name?" Lovino cut her off before she could speak.

"Don't talk to her."

"I can talk to whoever I want and I'm going to find out one way or the other. What's your name, sweetie?" Elizabeta suppressed a grimace at the pet name that she had, up until that moment, been fond of. The way the man had said it made her skin crawl.

"Elizabeth," she answered. It wasn't a complete lie. Elizabeth was a variation of her name.

"Elizabeth…?"

"What does it matter?" Lovino snapped.

"Edelstein," Elizabeta blurted out. She had almost said Beilschmidt but that name was too well known. She couldn't risk anything being traced back to Gilbert or Ludwig. Roderich's name had been the second to come to mind, although she almost blushed when she said it.

"Elizabeth Edelstein." The man said the name as if it offended him. "You're German?"

"Austrian."

"Your Italian is good."

"So I've been told," she said shortly.

"Congratulations on your engagement," again, the tone was blatantly sarcastic.

"Thank you," Elizabeta answered, equally as false. The man frowned, but said nothing else and turned away from both of them. Elizabeta glanced over at Lovino. If looks could kill, the man would have been a pile of ash. She had seen Lovino angry a lot over the past three days but not like this. She squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring smile. He only shook his head and stared down at the floor.

They reached a set of French doors that opened to beautifully decorated sunroom. Through the windows Elizabeta could see a large pool that looked extremely inviting given the hot weather. Next to it lounged a stocky man with dark shades pulled over his face. He was the only one outside so she could only assume that this was who they had come to see.

The man who had brought them there pointed to Elizabeta. "You, stay here." She expected Lovino to argue but he was glaring at the man by the pool.

"This shouldn't take more than a few minutes." The man opened the door that lead to the pool deck. Lovino glanced back before he stepped out and Elizabeta gave him a small wave. He grimaced and followed the man to the pool, leaving her to ponder on what had happened so far. She was slightly disappointed that she wouldn't be meeting this Stefano Lima face to face, but, from what she had seen so far and, judging from Lovino's reactions, the relationship between the two was anything but pleasant. This animosity clearly existed between Lovino and anyone associated with Lima.

She squinted out the window to see what was going on. She couldn't hear anything anyone was saying and she hadn't reached the level of mastery in Italian where she could lip read. She could see that Lovino looked angry, but this didn't give her much to work with. Lima's face was unreadable, especially with his glasses on. He didn't seem particularly intimidating. She guessed that if he stood up he would only be a few centimeters taller than her. But she knew all to well the dangers of judging a book by its cover.

"Anything good happening out there? Have the claws come out yet?" Elizabeta whirled around to see that a dark-haired man in a finely pressed suit had just walked into the room. He was very handsome with dark brown eyes and a mischievous smile that widened, revealing perfect white teeth.

"Sorry, did I scare you?" His voice was smooth and just as attractive as the rest of him. Elizabeta couldn't help but smile back.

"Maybe just a little," she admitted.

"Forgive me then. I would hate to upset such a lovely lady. I am Alessandro Lima. And who might you be?" Elizabeta froze when he said his name. The man in front of her was too young to be anything except Lima's son. She was loathe to be cordial to anyone associated with that man, but there was something about that smile that had her grinning like an idiot.

"Elizabeth Edelstein," she answered.

"And what, if I may ask, brings you here today Miss. Edelstein?" Before Elizabeta could speak, the door leading to the pool slammed open and Lovino stomped into the sunroom. The furious look on his face dissolved immediately when he saw Alessandro, and Elizabeta could almost describe the new expression as happy.

"Sandro? What are you here for?" Lovino asked.

"Same as you, my friend."

"The shitstorm?"

Alessandro laughed, charming Elizabeta even further. "What else? You don't seem too roughed up, so it couldn't have been that bad."

Lovino smirked. "I'll let you be the judge of that yourself."

"Where's your phone by the way? I tried calling you earlier."

"I lost it. Get me a new one?"

"Of course. I need an upgrade myself. But where are my manners? Before you came in, I was talking to this beautiful woman here. Do you know her?"

"She's Romano's fiancé." It was the man from before. He was standing by the door, a mean smirk on his face. Alessandro turned towards him.

"Hey, Vetra, when you've finished licking my father's boots for the day, I need you to order two new phones for me and Romano," he said. Elizabeta bit her lip to keep from laughing as Vetra's face turned an ugly shade of purple. He looked as if he was going to say something, but then he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

"I hate that man," Lovino said.

"We all do," Alessandro said. "So was he telling the truth? Is this your fiancé?"

"Yes." Lovino said in the strained manner that almost made Elizabeta wince.

"Well congratulations then!" Alessandro walked over to pull Lovino into a tight embrace. "When were you going to tell us?" He said when they moved apart.

Lovino blushed. "It all happened somewhat sudden."

"Well at least you didn't elope like my sister. This is wonderful! Trust you to get the most beautiful girl."

"I warn you now," Alessandro said to Elizabeta, "he's extremely grumpy so if you get tired of him, I will be glad to have you." Lovino scowled and Elizabeta laughed.

"I think he's adorable," she said. Alessandro grinned.

"You must be a saint. I like you even more now." Elizabeta beamed.

"Did you tell my father?" Alessandro asked Lovino.

"Vetra did." Lovino turned towards Elizabeta. "He wants to meet you before we go."

Elizabeta felt a jolt of excitement as well as nervousness. She had hoped for this.

"We might as well all go now and get everything over and done with," Alessandro said. He offered Elizabeta his hand. She took it happily. With Lovino in front, the three of them made their way to the pool deck. When Lima saw them approaching he took off his sunglasses. Elizabeta expected him to be dull and oafish, but his eyes were sharp and intelligent. This was not a man to be crossed.

"Hello Father," Alessandro said, evenly. "How are you today?"

"I don't have time for your shit today, Sandro. Who is this woman? Another one of your whores?" Elizabeta felt her face heat up. Alessandro frowned.

"No, Father, this is Elizabeth Edelstein, Romano's fiancé," he said.

"It's a pleasure to meet you sir," Elizabeta said, trying to keep her voice light.

Lima laughed. "You sure know how to pick 'em, Romano. Next time I would appreciate some forewarning." Even though she knew that she and Lovino were not actually engaged, Elizabeta still bristled at the comment, offended that the man could so casually assume that there would be a next time. She disliked him more every second.

"Will you be attending the party on Thursday Miss. Edelstein?" Lima asked.

"I was not informed of one, sir," Elizabeta said.

"Well shame on Romano for not telling you. He probably wasn't going to attend himself. But he will, won't you, Romano." It wasn't a question and Lovino only nodded.

"My wife's sister's engagement party is this Thursday," Lima said to Elizabeta "You absolutely must attend." Again, it was said in a way that accepted no other answer.

Elizabeta forced a smiled. "I look forward to it."

"And of course we will have to start planning your engagement party as well. First my daughter runs off with some loser and now this! This is a season of weddings. And of course nothing is cheap." He smiled at Elizabeta. "But I suppose some things are worth the cost." She fought the urge not to vomit right there and then. "Romano, bring her to the picnic tomorrow. We have a family picnic every year here. You two can go now. I've said everything I need to say to you today. Sandro, you stay here."

"I will see you tomorrow, Miss. Edelstein," Alessandro said. Elizabeta hoped that he would kiss her hand but he only smiled. "Take good care of this one, Romano. "

"Let's go Elizabeth," Lovino said. With one last look at Alessandro, Elizabeta followed him back into the house. Neither of them said anything as they walked. When they reached the front doors, Vetra was waiting for them.

"I have a car waiting for you outside. Have a nice day," he said, shortly before walking off.

Elizabeta had so many questions to ask, but kept quiet the entire ride. She didn't trust the driver. Lovino didn't speak either so it was a long, quiet car ride. To pass the time, she thought of Alessandro and his handsome smile that made her forget all her worries and plans. She had come to Italy looking for a man, but why did the most perfect one she had found have to be the son of a mob boss? Why was there always a catch?

So as not to blow their cover, Lovino had given the driver the address to one of the nicer hotels in Palermo. It wasn't too far from Elizabeta's hostel and she figured it wouldn't be too difficult to find her way there. When they arrived, Lovino offered to walk her inside and she gratefully agreed.

"Wait an hour before you head back," he said to her when they stepped inside the lobby. "Don't stop for anything. I'll see you tomorrow. Be here at noon." Elizabeta nodded.

"Stay safe," she said.

"You too," he said. And then he was gone. Her emotions a mess, Elizabeta spent the next hour sitting by the hotels swimming pool after a nice couple opened the door for her. After the hour had passed, she walked quickly back to her hostel. She looked over her shoulder every few seconds. She had the strangest feeling that she was being followed but no one was there. Still, she picked up to pace to point where she was almost jogging.

"And where have you been all day?" Gilbert asked when she got to the room. "You need to stop disappearing on me, Liz."

"Sorry. I have so much to tell you but I guess the first thing I should tell you is…I'm engaged."

"Congratulations, I got engaged today too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, her name is Vreneli. She's from Switzerland and she's staying next door. I was coming back from lunch and she was moving in. She saw me and announced to everyone that I was the man that she was destined to marry."

"Wow," Elizabeta said. "When's the wedding?"

Gilbert shrugged. "I dunno. I don't really care. But I'm going to have to lock our doors if she comes back in here again. It's starting to creep me out. Anyway, tell me what happened with Mafia boy today. Is he the one you're engaged to?" Elizabeta nodded. "Figures. It seems you won this time, Liz. His brother still liked me best though."

"You wish," Elizabeta said, before she told him what had happened to her that day.

"Elizabeth…Edelstein? Edelstein as in Roderich Edelstein, your loser penpal?"

"Yes and he's not a loser. You've never even met him!"

"And at this rate, I won't be. Anyway, I'm liking the sound of this Alessandro guy," Gilbert said, grinning. "I'd love to meet him. Will he be at the picnic tomorrow? Can I come?"

"Yes and no. You're not invited." Gilbert pouted.

"You just want him for yourself."

"No," Elizabeta lied. "I'm engaged, remember? And so are you. Don't you dare break that poor girl's heart."

"Are you any closer to coming up with a plan to bust Lovino out of here?' Gilbert asked.

Elizabeta sighed. "No. Lima is smarter than I thought. It won't be easy to fool him. I'm too tired to think of anything else today. I'm going to go take a bath and go to bed. I'll figure something out tomorrow."

"Maybe darling Alessandro can help you," Gilbert crooned.

"Fuck you," Elizabeta snarled. The sound of Gilbert's laughter rang in her ears as she stomped out of the room.

* * *

"Romano, you naughty boy. How could you not tell us about her?" Luciana Lima scolded teasingly the next day at the picnic. Elizabeta had expected someone cold and cruel looking, but Luciana was exactly the opposite. She was beautiful with long, wavy black hair and dark brown eyes. She had a kind, motherly smile and the first thing she did when she met Elizabeta was give her a big hug, much to her surprise. Obviously, Alessandro had gotten his looks and charm from his mother. He winked at Elizabeta over his mother's shoulder and she smiled in return.

"She's lovely. Look at those eyes! And such nice hair! Such a pity you're Austrian, but nobody's perfect. I'm kidding, I kidding!"

"Mom, stop it. You're embarrassing her…and me," Alessandro said.

"I'm just welcoming her to family!" Luciana said, brightly. "I lost one daughter this year, but now I'm about to get another. Sandro and Romano are like brothers. They're nearly inseparable, it's adorable."

Alessandro rolled his eyes. "Mom, please. Romano is going to burst an artery, look at him." Lovino had turned his signature shade of red, and, if it was possible, turned even redder when everyone looked at him.

"You two will make a lovely pair," Luciana said to Elizabeta. "And the children! Oh my God, I'll finally get grandchildren! I thought all hope was lost when Maria ran away."

"You still have Alessandro," Elizabeta, despite her embarrassment. She couldn't even bear to look at Lovino, if he hadn't passed out by now.

Luciana rolled her eyes. "Yes, but he refuses to settle down. I've given up on him ever finding a good woman."

"Mom, you're the only woman I need in my life," Alessandro said. "No one would ever be as good to me as you."

Luciana laughed. "He says this every time. The eternal charmer. Gets it from his father." No one said anything to support this. Elizabeta quickly glanced at Stefano Lima out of the corner of her eye. He had spent the whole time sitting by the pool, quietly watching his guests. Besides him stood the ever faithful Vetra, who glared at anyone who came within 5 meters of his boss. Elizabeta was avoiding going near either of them.

There were about forty people at the picnic—all related to the family in one way or the other. They were all kind to Elizabeta, but she could see in their eyes the skepticism and disbelief. She didn't blame them. Two days was an extremely short period of time to know someone before you got married and the only one who seemed to truly believe that it was 'love at first sight' was Luciana, who had cooed at the romanticism of everything.

"Like in the fairytales and those American children's movies. I loved them when I was a child. I still do!" She had said, happily.

"You all must excuse me," Luciana said. "I see Enna della Torre and she's wearing that blue Versace dress. You know the one from the new spring collection? I'm absolutely must go yell at her. I saw that first. I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Come along, Romano." Luciana smiled at his look of surprise. "You didn't think I'd let you get away that easy, did you? Alessandro, take Elizabeth for a walk. Show her the greenhouse. I had it built myself. I had flowers imported from everywhere, even Africa. My husband says I spend too much on plants. I can't really blame him, but I love them. But look at me, talking like a teenage girl. Let's go Romano." Luciana pulled a less-than-willing Lovino with her to confront Enna della Torre, leaving Elizabeta alone with Alessandro.

"I almost pity him, Romano," Alessandro said. "My mother can talk anyone's ears off in seconds. She adores him though. And she already adores you. She really was heartbroken when my sister left."

Elizabeta tried to smile, but the guilt was making it difficult. This wasn't what she had expected. She had expected cold-hearted killers and although Lima seemed to fit the mold, the rest of his family, including many of the people she had met that day, seemed like a normal and happy people. Lovino had told her that he wanted out, but even though he didn't look exactly pleased to be with Luciana, he didn't look upset either. He had a content look on his face and Elizabeta wondered if he really wanted escape. Perhaps he had only said it in response to the pressure she had put on him. Perhaps he genuinely wanted to stay in Palermo after all. It all didn't seem so bad.

"Miss. Edelstein?" Elizabeta blinked. She hadn't realized that her thoughts had been wandering. Alessandro was looking at her with slight concern and it made her heart skip a beat to know that he cared. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. It's just that it's kind of hot."

"Yes, the weather has been very unusual lately. It doesn't normally get this warm until June." Elizabeta was mortified. God forbid they start talking about the weather.

"By the way, please, call me Elizabeth," she said. "We are going to be family after all. No need to be so formal." Alessandro smiled and she felt tingly all over.

"Of course, Elizabeth. The greenhouse is this way." Like the gentleman he was, he offered her his arm and she took it and they both strolled away from the crowds.

"I didn't get a chance to ask yesterday, but how did you and Romano meet?" Alessandro asked.

Elizabeta hadn't thought about this one and made something up on the spot. "It was actually very random. I was coming back from the market and I was crossing the street and one of my bags split open. I thought I was going to get hit by a car before I picked everything up and then this man came out of nowhere and helped me gather everything up. It was Romano of course. When he stood up and we locked eyes, it was like this spark of electricity and I just knew he was the one." She mentally gave herself a pat on the back for coming up with something so clever and romantic on the spot. She should write novels. "He asked me out to dinner when we got off the road and after that it was obvious that we were meant to be. I know a lot of people have their doubts, but they wouldn't if they could feel what I feel. When I'm with Romano, the world is just…right. Everything seems so much brighter and clearer and more beautiful." She turned to Alessandro, realizing that she had just described her feelings when she was with him. He was looking at her with a small smile and a look in his eyes that she couldn't quite place.

"What? Did I say something wrong?" she asked.

"No, it's just…you're amazing. I've never met someone with so much passion." He said. Elizabeta smiled. "Romano is a very lucky man." Her smiled faltered.

"Yes. Yes, he is," she said softly. This wasn't supposed to be happening. She wasn't supposed to be attracted to son of the man she was trying to outwit. She wasn't supposed to want to stay in Palermo forever. She had made a promise to Feliciano to bring Lovino home and she still had her own journey to continue.

_But what if I've already found what I've been looking for?_ She asked herself. _But of all the people in the world!_

"What do you think? Impressive, yes?" Alessandro said, pointing to the greenhouse. It was enormous and was practically erupting with flowers.

"It's…amazing! Can we go inside?" she asked, excitedly.

"Of course. I think my mother would be extremely displeased if I brought you all the way here just to look at the outside. She's very protective of it so she only had a few copies of the key made. One for herself, me and the gardener who comes on the weekend," Alessandro said as he pulled a key out of his pocket.

"What about your father?" Elizabeta asked.

"He doesn't care for flowers," Alessandro said, shortly. Elizabeta didn't press the matter any further.

The inside of the greenhouse was more amazing than she could have imagined. She liked flowers—she always wore some floral accessory in her hair—but she only recognized about two of hundreds of species in there. There weren't just flowers but small fruit trees that were just beginning to bear their fruit.

Alessandro snipped a red rose off a bush and handed it to her. "For you. Don't tell my mother, she'll be furious."

Elizabeta blushed. "Thank you. And I can't imagine your mother angry. She's so kind. You should get married," she found herself saying, "for her sake. She seems like she really wants to see you happy and settled down."

Alessandro rolled his eyes. "I've known many women and none have matched up to her. Well," he said, looking at Elizabeta, "I wouldn't say none." She suddenly realized how close they were. Alessandro took a step towards her and she didn't move away. She should have. She was supposed to be engaged to his best friend, but she had somehow lost all feeling in her legs.

"I think I know what you were saying earlier, about love at first sight," he said as he drew closer.

"What did I say?" Elizabeta said, heavily.

"That everything seems brighter and clearer." He reached to twirl a strand of her hair around his finger. "And much more beautiful." He leaned towards her.

"I shouldn't," she whispered.

"But you want to?"

"…yes." This was what she wanted. She had wanted it since she had seen him. "But what about Romano? I do care for him."

"He doesn't have to know."

"But he's your best friend." Alessandro ran a finger over her lips and she shivered in delight.

"No more talk of Romano," he said, leaning in. He pulled away quickly as the door to the greenhouse flew open. It was Lovino and he stopped saying whatever he had been about to say when he saw how close they were.

"Hello, Romano. How did escape from my mother?" Alessandro said casually. He did not look remotely guilty. Elizabeta kept her eyes on the floor.

"She actually sent me to come find you. She wants you to meet some people." Lovino said, his voice odd.

Alessandro sighed. "Probably just the empty-headed daughters of some of her friends. I would rather not. How about we all go inside for a drink?"

"Your father wants to see you too."

"Well it seems I'm just wanted by everyone today," Alessandro said, irritated now. "None of this can wait?"

"No."

"Fine. I will see you later Elizabeth." He strode out of the greenhouse, leaving Elizabeta with Lovino and her guilt. She finally looked up and saw that he was already heading back to the picnic.

"Wait, Lovino, please!" she called after him. He stopped but didn't turn around. "Look, nothing happened."

"As if I care about any of that," Lovino snapped. He turned around, which was a mistake, because she saw that he was lying. "I just didn't expect this from you. I thought you came here to help me, not make out with my boss's son."

"I did not make out with him. I didn't even kiss him. And I am here to help you, but from what I've seen, you don't look like you really need it anymore."

"Maybe it's because you're too busy looking at Sandro. You shouldn't get involved with him."

Elizabeta frowned. "Don't tell me you're actually jealous."

"Why the hell would I be jealous? It's just that Sandro has a reputation with women. Don't think I care, because I don't, but it won't do either of us any good if he breaks your heart."

"I can't believe you would talk about your friend that way. Nothing happened between us and nothing is going to happen. I came here for you, Lovino. But I don't even know whether or not you're serious about this anymore. Remember, I said I can't help you unless you genuinely want my help. Do you want my help?"

"Honestly? I don't know anymore," Lovino said before he turned and walked away. Elizabeta almost ran after him, but she decided that they both needed some time to cool down.

"Damn it!" she said and kicked angrily at the grass. "Why does nothing ever work out? When do I get to be happy? I couldn't have Ludwig, I couldn't have Feliciano, I can't have Alessandro and Lovino wants nothing to do with me. It wasn't supposed to be like this!"

"Like what, dear?" Elizabeta turned around to see Luciana. "Sandro said you were still here and I came to check up on you. I just saw Romano and he looked awfully upset. Don't tell me you two got in a fight!"

"No, no. Just a little misunderstanding. It will be fine. Thank you for your concern."

"It's no problem, my dear. And whatever it is, don't worry about it for a second. Romano's probably already forgotten about it by now. Men, they're like babies. They kick, scream and cry and in the end they can't even remember why they were upset in the first place. Thank goodness for us women to keep them on track. So did you like my greenhouse?" Elizabeta nodded.

"It's absolutely amazing," she said.

"It is, isn't it? It's the perfect getaway. I come here when I'm upset and after a few hours I'm back to my chipper self. If you want, you can stay as long as you want. This picnic must be such a bore for you. Don't shake your head like that. You can't fool me. I know it hasn't been easy for you. I married into the family as well so I know. It will get better soon. I promise."

Elizabeta almost blurted out everything right then and there but she only nodded and headed back to the greenhouse. She stayed there the rest of the day, until Lovino finally came to tell her that it was time to go. She said her goodbyes to Luciana. Alessandro was nowhere to be found.

"You must come shopping with me tomorrow. We need to get you a dress for the party," Luciana said as she walked them to the door.

"I don't know if I can aff—" Luciana put a finger to her lips.

"The 'a' word is strictly forbidden in this house. If Lovino won't pay for you then I will," she said.

"I couldn't let you do that," Elizabeta protested.

"Too late, I already am. Ask anyone who knows me and they'll tell you that once I've made up my mind it is impossible to change it. I will see you tomorrow, my dear. I'll send a car to come pick you up at one. Ok? Ok. You two have a goodnight!" Luciana waved happily, before closing the door.

"Are you going to apologize first or should I?" Elizabeta asked as they walked to the car. It was well past midnight, the darkness slightly eerie. Lovino said nothing.

"Fine. I'll go first. I'm sorry. Now it's your turn." Lovino was still silent. Elizabeta stopped walking and grabbed his arm.

"Didn't you hear me? I said I was sorry," she said.

"I heard you," he muttered.

"Oh really? Then hear this. I meant everything I said before and no one, not even Alessandro, is going to change my mind. If what you want is to get out of here, I'm going to help you do so. I'm not giving up on you Lovino. And not just because I promised your brother. Got it?" He nodded. "Good. Now it's your turn."

"I…I'm sorry," he said quietly. She smiled.

"I forgive you."

* * *

The car dropped Elizabeta off at the same hotel from the day before. She was too anxious to get home so she only waited about ten minutes instead of an hour before she headed back to the hostel. As she walked, she was once again struck by the sensation that she was being followed. It didn't help that it was so dark outside. Lovino had offered to walk with her, but she had told him that she would be fine. The hostel was only five minutes away if she cut through the side street. Now she wasn't so sure that had been the wisest choice.

She picked up her pace suddenly and then heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind her. They were loud and gaining fast. Without looking back, Elizabeta took off running. Whoever was behind her sped up as well and, for the second time since she had arrived in the city, Elizabeta found herself running for her life. She didn't know how long she ran until she saw the entrance to a small alley between a mirrors shop and a closed down warehouse. There was a small crawlspace in the wall of the warehouse and she squeezed into it. She peeked out and saw that she could see the reflection of street in the mirrors hung all around the outside of the shop. Her pursuer was hooded and turned away from her, but she could see his hands and saw the two gold rings in the darkness, glinting on his left hand. For a second he looked as if he was going to walk through the alley, but then he heard something and stopped. Elizabeta squinted and saw the silhouettes of two men approach him.

"I lost her," the hooded man said, his voice muffled.

"We couldn't find her either," said one of the silhouettes and Elizabeta barely suppressed a gasp. She would never forget that voice. It was the same voice of one of the men that had chased her and Lovino. She assumed that the other silhouette belonged to his partner. She pressed herself deeper into the crawlspace, knowing that these men would not hesitate to kill her if they found her. She wanted to scream, cry out for help, but she knew that no one would ever find her in time. She covered her mouth with her hand and listened to the men talk, her dread growing with each second.

"I doubt we'll find her tonight," the hooded man said, "but it's only a matter of time. She can't hide forever. We'll take care of both her and Vargas. I've waited this long. I can wait a little bit longer. You two go now. I'll call you when I next need you." The two men lumbered off and the hooded man headed in the other direction. Elizabeta sighed in relief. Too loudly. The hooded man paused and turn back to face the alley. He took one step into the alley and Elizabeta pushed further against the wall of crawlspace. She screamed when the wall gave way and she fell into a dusty storage room. With dust in her eyes and her lungs she flailed around blindly, reaching for anything she might use to defend herself. Her hand grasped a cool handle and she blinked away the dust to see that she had grabbed a frying pan. It was better than nothing.

She heard the sound of footsteps and quickly pulled herself up from the rubble. She reached the door of the storage room just as the hooded man reached what had once been the crawlspace. She looked back long enough to see him trying to squeeze through the hole before she yanked open the door and ran up the stairs. At the top of the stairs was a back door, but when she tried the handle, she found that it was locked shut. She swore and looked around for any other possible exit. All the other doors were locked and the only other exit she found was a window just above her head. There were some empty crates pushed up against the wall and she dragged one over. She climbed on top of it and found herself at perfect level with the window. She grasped the frying pan with both hands, closed her eyes and swung it at the glass, which shattered on contact. Elizabeta heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and ignoring the pain of broken glass digging into her palm, heaved herself out the window, frying pan still in hand. She screamed as she fell, but her fall was somewhat cushioned by a stack of old rugs placed just outside the window, which she landed on with a heavy thud. Groaning, she rolled off them and took off running down the street. She screamed when she rounded a corner and collided with someone. Not pausing to see who it was, she raised her frying pan and brought it down hard on their head.

"Ow! What the fuck?"

"Oh my god! Gilbert!" She had never been so happy to hear his voice in her life. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you! Lovino called my phone to ask if you made it back on time. I thought you got lost or something. Where the hell did you get a frying pan?"

"No time to explain. Which way is the hostel?"

"It's right down the street."

"Thank god. We need to get out of here." She grabbed his hand and pulled along, ignoring his questions. She didn't stop running until they had reached their room. She slammed the door shut behind them and slid the lock into place. Then she collapsed against the door.

"Holy shit, Elizabeta, what the fuck happened to you?" Gilbert said, now that he could see her in the light. Her hair was wild and rumpled. Her dress was dirty and ripped. There were scratches all over her arms and legs and purplish bruises were already beginning to appear alongside them. Her hands were covered in blood and broken glass.

"Someone…someone's trying to kill me Gilbert," she said, breathlessly. "They were chasing me with the men from before. They were so close. So close…if I hadn't found you…"

"That's it," Gilbert said. "We're getting the fuck out of here first thing in the morning."

"No! I'm not leaving Lovino! They're after him too."

"Then grab his scrawny ass and let's all head for the hills."

"No. Not until I find out who they are."

"Are you mental Elizabeta?" Gilbert reached down to help her to her feet and led her to the bathroom. "Look at yourself in the mirror! You still want to stay here? Do you want to die?"

She glared at her reflection. "I want justice. Whoever is behind this will pay." Gilbert let her go of her so suddenly that she almost collapsed. She leaned against the door and slid down to the floor.

"You're crazy! Insane!" he said cried, leaving the bathroom.

"If I leave now, then they win."

"Who gives a shit? If we leave now, you live!"

"I can't just go without finding out who these people are and why they are after me and Lovino. Who knows what they will do if we leave? No, I need to figure this out."

"Well you can do that yourself. I'm out of here." Gilbert reached underneath his bed and pulled out his suitcase. He picked up his clothes from the floor and began stuffing them into the bag.

"Gilbert…"

He ignored her and grabbed his other bag.

"Gilbert!...Gilbert, please!" He stopped his frantic packing. "I need you. Please. I can't…I can't do this without you." She was verge of tears but she pushed them away. "Don't go…please."

Gilbert sighed and shoved his bags away. He came back into the bathroom, picked her up from the floor and set her down on the edge of the sink.

"Let me see your hands," he said. She held them up and he grimaced when saw the mixture of blood and glass. "Damn it. What a mess. Hold on. You're lucky I brought tweezers…and a first aid kit."

Elizabeta laughed. "You actually got one? Were you expecting something like this?"

"No. West made me buy it. He's so paranoid. Looks like he was actually right this time."

"Thank goodness for your brother," Elizabeta said. She winced as Gilbert pulled out the first pieces of glass.

"So what's the plan for tomorrow Miss. Dangerseeker? Should I expect to find you beaten and bruised in some alley again?"

"Hopefully not. I'm going shopping tomorrow."

"Oh really? How nice. For what? AK-47's? More frying pans?"

"A party dress," Elizabeta said flatly.

Gilbert laughed. "You? In a party dress? Now I know you've been traumatized."

"You're such an ass. Good thing I love you. Thank you for staying."

"Yeah, you owe me big, Liz. Where are we going after Austria? Spain?" She nodded. "Okay, when we get to Spain, I'm going to rent a boat, buy two crates of beer and we're going to hit up every gay bar I can find. And no complaining or moaning about your little journey for true love. Okay?"

"Fine." She winced as Gilbert took out more pieces of glass.

"Damn. At least kick this guy's ass for ruining your hands. Now you'll never get married," he said. Elizabeta laughed.

* * *

The next day she put on a pair of long pants and a long sleeved shirt to hide the scratches and bruises. Luckily, the weather was beginning to cool down, but she was still hotter than was comfortable. She dutifully went shopping with Luciana who was elated to see her. When she asked about Elizabeta's bandaged hands and how she had gotten the scratch on her cheek she lied and said that she that had fallen down the stairs. Luciana teased her, saying that was not ladylike at all, before launching into a string of stories about her youth and how she would spend summers climbing the fruit trees in her father's yard.

"I was like a little monkey!" she recalled, gleefully. Elizabeta put on her best smile and laughed with her. Shopping was the last thing she was in the mood for but it was better than sitting and moping in her room all day. She casually asked about Alessandro and was informed with much smiling and giggling that he had gone on a date the night before with the daughter of one of her friends. Luciana called it a miracle from God. Elizabeta had only nodded and tried not to let the pain she was feeling in her chest show. She knew that it was better this way, but that didn't mean it hurt any less.

In the end, after much bartering about cost, Elizabeta ended up with rich, wine colored dress that seemed almost too nice to wear. She didn't have much experience with party clothes and was informed by Luciana that it was cut in a Grecian style that was in much demand that season. This was enough to satisfy Elizabeta. Following the shopping trip, Luciana insisted that she join her for lunch. She protested that she had too many things to do before tomorrow and eventually Luciana let her go, making her promise that they would have lunch on Monday.

_If I'm still here by then,_ Elizabeta thought while she was nodding and agreeing. Lovino had called again that morning and had nearly exploded when she told him what had happened. She had had to endure ten minutes of "you're an idiot!" and "are you fucking crazy?" before she was finally able stop him from buying her a train ticket and forcibly removing her from the city.

"It's not safe for you here. The best thing for you to do would be to get out," Lovino had said when he had calmed down.

"I'm not leaving you behind. I think I have a plan now. I'll tell you tomorrow after the party." She had hung up with multiple promises to stay safe.

When she got back to the hostel after her shopping trip with Luciana, Elizabeta explained to Gilbert the idea that she had been developing all day.

"I think whoever has been following me will be at the party tomorrow," she said.

"What makes you think that?" Gilbert asked.

"I'm not really sure, but it would make the most sense if they were. I'm almost 100% sure that they are connected to the family in some way."

"Do you have an idea of who it might be?" She nodded.

"I think it might be Vetra," she said.

"The pissy doorman?"

"Yes. I couldn't hear the person's voice very well, but it sounded familiar and besides Lima himself, he's the only one that could possibly have anything against Lovino and me."

"So maybe he wants to kill Lovino so that his boss can stay in power. Why is he after you then?"

"The only reason I can think of is because I'm Lovino's fiancé. Maybe he thinks I'll get in the way and ruin his plans."

"Or plan a hostile takeover. I can it now: Elizabeta Hédeváry: Mafioso Boss," Gilbert said. Elizabeta gave him a half smile. "You have to admit that it has a ring to it."

"If I was the boss, who would you be?"

"Obviously your second in command. As if you could run a criminal organization without me."

They brainstormed for a few more hours until Elizabeta was certain that Vetra was the one behind it. She hadn't seen him after the picnic and remembered Luciana telling her that he had gone home earlier. It all fit into place.

She would have preferred to spend the next day exploring Palermo—lately, she had only been running around the city and had yet to truly do an sightseeing—but Gilbert insisted on helping her get ready for the party.

"This guy wants to kill you, Liz. The least you can do it look nice for him," he had joked. He had called across the hall for his Swiss wife-to-be who had been overjoyed to see him, despite the fact that she made it her job to knock on their door every five minutes asking for him.

"Vreneli, look at her, she's a mess. I'm a pro at giving style tips but doing makeovers is a little too camp for me. Do you think you and your friends can help her out?"

"Of course, Gilly! Anything for you! We'll make her gorgeous!" Vreneli had gushed before running back to her room to call her friends.

"Gilly?" Elizabeta said, smirking. Gilbert shook his head.

"Don't ask."

Vreneli kept true to her word and after hours of hair pulling, waxing and tweezing, Elizabeta slipped on her dress and stepped back into the room, which exploded with a collection of gasps and compliments.

"Wow, Liz. You almost turned me straight there," Gilbert said. This was the highest compliment had ever given her.

When Lovino came to pick her up, he took one look at her and turned bright red. She teased him mercilessly the whole car ride because he refused to look at her.

"You're so mean, Romano! You don't think I'm pretty at all! You're a terrible fiancé!"

"Can you just shut up?" Lovino snapped. "You look fine."

"Tell me I'm pretty."

"Leave me alone!"

"Please? Pretty please?"

"For the love of—fine! You're pretty."

"Say it like you mean it."

"No."

"Don't make me pinch you, again."

"Get away from me! You're pretty! You're really pretty!"

Elizabeta settled back into her seat with a smug smile. "Why thank you. That's so kind of you to say that." Lovino only scowled.

The party was being held at an old church that Lovino told her the family sometimes used for events such as this. Elizabeta didn't think it very impressive on the outside, but found that it had been once beautifully designed on the inside and was still very lovely. It was an old building, with multiple wings and halls but, even with all the silk curtains and expensive decorations, she could still see the wooden beams that supported the ceiling. Although the outside was all stone, the church had mostly been built with wood.

Luciana was first to greet them when they came through the door. She looked amazing in an olive green, off the shoulder dress.

"Oh this? Just some old rags I pulled out of my closet," she said in response to Elizabeta's compliments. "It's nothing compared to you my dear. My God, you're gorgeous. Romano, isn't she?"

"Yes," he muttered with some difficulty. "Is Sandro here?"

"Yes, yes! Of course. He's talking to Diana d'Aquino. She's twice divorced and I think she has a crush on him. For shame!" Luciana marched off, chattering about modesty and respect and returned minutes later with Alessandro. If it was possible, he looked even more handsome in his black suit. His dark hair had been elegantly combed back and only a single tendril had escaped and was dangling at the side of his face. It only made him more attractive. He smiled when he saw Elizabeta and she couldn't help but return it.

"And so the loveliest lady has finally arrived," he said. "Save for you of course, Mom."

Luciana laughed. "Stop it! I'm nothing but an old woman."

"It is pleasure to see you again, Elizabeth," Alessandro said. He took her hand and kissed it. "You look absolutely beautiful."

Elizabeta beamed. "Thank you," she said, eyes cast downward in embarrassment. Then she saw something that made her blood run cold. Alessandro was left handed. He had taken her hand with his left, which was completely bare except for two gold rings on his middle finger. Suddenly, it was as if time had stopped and Elizabeta could only see the rings and then she remembered the voice from before. She had thought it familiar, but it hadn't been Vetra's voice. It had been deeper. The build of the man had been different too. He had been too tall to be the doorman. She couldn't believe that she had forgotten all of that until now.

But it made no sense. Why would Alessandro want to kill Lovino? The two were almost like brothers. It couldn't be.

"Elizabeth? Are you alright?" Elizabeta blinked. The blood was pounding in her ears and suddenly everything was beginning to look blurry and less focused.

"My God, she's going to faint! Sandro, catch her!"

"I'm fine. I'm fine." Elizabeta said. "Just a little dizzy." Luciana took her hand.

"It's this crazy weather, isn't it? I know, my dear. It gets to me too. You just need some fresh air. Come with me." Elizabeta let herself be dragged to the bathroom and could only nod dumbly at whatever Luciana was saying. She was barely listening. Her mind was spinning and, for a second, she thought she was going to be sick.

It couldn't be Alessandro. There had to be millions of men in the city who wore gold rings on their left hand. It wasn't him. She told herself this over and over until she realized that she didn't really believe it. There was only one person who could confirm her fears. She looked over at Luciana, who was still struggling to open the bathroom window.

"There aren't many exits or windows in this church," she was saying. "A design flaw and a pretty stupid one too."

"Luciana."

"Yes, dear?"

"You said Alessandro had a date the night after the party. Was he with her all night?" Her heart sunk when Luciana shook her head.

"No. Fiammetta told me that her daughter was home before midnight. Isn't Sandro such a gentleman?"

"Do you know what he did afterwards?"

Luciana laughed. "He's my son, but I don't keep 24 hour surveillance on him. I did see him the next day at his house and I know wherever he had been, it hadn't been too clean."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well you know me, being a mother as I am, can't resist doing a little cleaning whenever I visit my son. There was a pile of clothes at the foot of his bed and although Sandro is quite neat, he does sometimes leave clothes he wore the day before on the floor. So I picked them up and my goodness, they were all covered in dust!" Elizabeta's heart was hammering in her chest now. She put her hands behind her back so that Luciana wouldn't see how much they were shaking.

"It was as if he was rolling around in some basement! But you know, boys will be boys and it wasn't my place to pry so I just put them all in the wash. Are you okay, dear? You're as white as a sheet. Come, help me with this window. It's stuck shut but I think together we can both get it open. Ready? One, two, three!" With their combined efforts, the window creaked open and Elizabeta was almost instantly calmed by a gust of cool air. It was a relief and she was struck with the urge to climb out the window and take off running down the street. But then there came a knock on the bathroom door.

"Mom? Is everything alright?" It was Alessandro and Elizabeta froze in place. "Is Elizabeth alright?"

"Yes, she's fine. Just still a little dizzy."

"Well I wanted you to know that they're bringing in the cake in a few minutes."

"Okay, thank you, love. We'll be there soon. You must see the cake my husband ordered," Luciana said when Alessandro had left. "It's absolutely amazing. Huge, maybe almost to the ceiling of this church. Well maybe not that big, but the biggest cake I've ever seen! I would probably explode if I took one bite."

Elizabeta only nodded. She had to find Lovino. She had to tell him what she had found out. They were both in terrible danger. For a split second she was struck with the horrifying thought that Luciana could be in on her son's plan but then dismissed it just as fast. Luciana wouldn't have told her everything just now if that was the case. The poor woman; she was so good and kind. It would break her heart when she found out that her son was a psychopathic killer.

"I'm feeling better now, Luciana. Thank you. We can go back now."

"That's lovely, my dear. Just let me know if you feel faint again." They left the bathroom and Elizabeta excused herself to go find Lovino. Before she could find him, she ran into Alessandro.

"Elizabeth, are you feeling better now?" he asked. She looked into his dark eyes and wondered how she had ever thought them beautiful. They were dark and cold and all she saw now was fake concern. Everything about him was fake. She couldn't believe she had almost let him kiss her.

"Much. I'm trying to find Romano, excuse me." She brushed past him, but he grabbed her arm.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked. She put on her best smile and nodded.

"Yes. I am now. Thank you." She pulled away and hurried off to search for Lovino. She found him in buffet room, piling tiny red tomatoes onto his plate. She grabbed his arm and pulled him off to the side.

"We need to talk," she whispered.

"Can it wait after I eat?"

"No. We have to get out of here now. It's not safe."

"What are you talking about?"

"Lovino, it was Alessandro."

"…what?"

"It was Alessandro. He was the one who hired the men to come after you. He was the one that chased me two nights ago. He wants to kill both of us." Lovino shook his head in disbelief.

"That's…that's impossible. It couldn't be Sandro. Why would he want to kill me?"

"Because you and his father are the only people keeping him from being the head of this whole family!" Elizabeta hissed, just understanding it herself. She told him what Luciana had told her. He grew deathly pale and she hated herself for doing this to him.

"No…Sandro wouldn't. He's…he's like a brother to me."

"You have a brother! His name is Feliciano and he's worried sick about you! Come on, we're going now!" She grabbed his arm but he wouldn't be moved. "Lovino! We need to go!"

"I'm not going anywhere," he said coldly. "I can't believe this."

"What's not to believe? I've given you all the evidence you need! Alessandro is nothing more than a smooth-talking, murderous bastard!"

"Don't talk about him like that!" Lovino yelled. The people around them turned to see what was going on. Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeta saw Alessandro approaching them.

"You have no idea the sort of shit I had to deal with when I first got here. Every day I thought I was going to die. And the only people that gave a fuck were Sandro and his mother. They are the last people on earth that would want to hurt me."

"I never said Luciana wanted to hurt you! I think she's innocent in all of this."

"So it's just Sandro? If this because he went out on a date with another girl?"

"What? No! Lovino, you have to believe me!" Alessandro had almost reached them. Lovino wrenched his arm away from her.

"Sorry. Can't." he said.

"Think, Lovino! The day those men chased us, you said you were only in that area because you were running an errand for your friend. Who was that friend?" She got her answer when she saw his eyes widen.

"Have you two been here this whole time?" Alessandro said. "The cake is here. You absolutely must come see it. My mother said it was amazing and for once she wasn't exaggerating. Are you coming, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeta glanced at Lovino, but he refused to meet her eyes. "Yes," she said. "I would love to see it."

The cake was just being brought into the main hall when they entered. It was enormous and was decorated with over a hundred small little candles that burned brightly. It was being carried by three men, and when they finally set it down on the table, Elizabeta saw that one had shockingly light hair. It was almost white.

"I don't believe it," she said aloud.

"I know," Alessandro said. "I don't even know how they got it through the door. Would you like to take a closer look?" Elizabeta nodded.

"There are so many candles," she said when they had reached the cake. "How in the world did they light everything?"

"Very carefully, miss," said one of the men who had brought in the cake. "Now we just need someone to sign for this."

"I can do it," Alessandro said. While he was doing this, Elizabeta circled around the cake. She guessed that it was almost 20 feet high. It was pale white and decorated with hundreds of pink and red roses. The only thing that concerned her was the candles that seemed to be burning almost too brightly.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Elizabeta did have to turn to know that it was the workman she had noticed before—the one with the light hair. He was speaking in English but she knew that voice anywhere. She didn't know how he had done it, but in a way, she wasn't surprised. Gilbert always found some way to get himself into situations like this. If they all made it out of there alive, she would kill him for being so stupid.

"Yes, yes it is," she said, calmly. "What are you doing here?" she whispered, in German.

Gilbert laughed. "I couldn't let you have all the fun."

"You need to get out of here now. It's too dangerous."

"Come on, Liz. Can't I even get something to eat? I'm starving."

"This isn't a joke! I was wrong, it wasn't Vetra that tried to kill me."

"Then who was it?"

"It was—"

"Hey you!" It was one of the other workers. He was motioning to Gilbert. "We're all done here."

Gilbert nodded and with a sly wink at Elizabeta, went to join his colleagues.

"Was that...Gilbert?" Elizabeta turned to see Lovino. She hadn't noticed that he had come up behind her.

"Yes it was," she said, happy that he was talking to her. Now if only she could make him believe her. Then something happened that Elizabeta would later look back on years later and still not know if it was the work of God or the devil. The workman were leaving through the side door and suddenly, a strong wind blew into the room and Elizabeta watched in horror as the candles at the very top of the cake were knocked over onto the silk curtains that decorated the whole room. In seconds, the curtains were completely ablaze. The fire moved quickly, greedily consuming the old, dried wood of the church. People screamed and ran towards the side door, but before they could reach it, one of the support beams from the roof came crashing down, crushing a handful of people and completely blocking the exit. Elizabeta couldn't tear her eyes away from the burning, screaming bodies that thrashed beneath the beam and she didn't know that she was running until she looked down and saw her feet moving. Lovino had grabbed her hand and was pulling her out of the hall. The fire was faster and rushed past them and up the walls.

"Wait!" Elizabeta screamed. "I need to find Gilbert!"

"You can't go back there!"

"I'm not leaving him behind!"

"Fine! I'll go find him! You find Luciana!" Elizabeta nodded and headed back towards the buffet room. All around her people were screaming and crying she suddenly remembered what Luciana had told her earlier about the small amount of exits in the church. She knew there was one down the stairs, it was where she and Lovino had first come in. They just had to get there in time.

The buffet room was already in flames by the time she arrived.

"Luciana! Luciana!" she called. There was no answer. Elizabeta tried the gifts room next—trying not to look as the brightly wrapped boxes burning black—but she could not find Luciana. She was running back towards the main hall when she heard the terrible sound of splintering wood. She ran to the stairs just in time to see them collapse on themselves, the people who had been on them seconds before, screaming as they plummeted to a fiery death. Now there was no way out.

Elizabeta closed her eyes, but she couldn't block the screams. She turned and ran back towards the buffet room. She thought she remembered seeing a door there earlier. If there was, it didn't matter because the room was almost completely on fire. She couldn't even get close to the door and the smoke was beginning to get into her lungs. Coughing and wheezing, she turned to head to the main hall and found Alessandro standing in her path. She took one look at him and ran in the other direction. He caught her easily by her hair and she screamed as he dragged her back.

"Not getting away this time," he said in a voice that was nothing like the smooth, calm sound that she had thought so wonderful. She tried to twist in his grip, but he kicked at the back of her legs and she fell to the ground. His hands still in her hair, he dragged her, screaming, down the hallway. Elizabeta grabbed onto the base of a marble statue and he kicked at her hands. She took the opportunity to claw at the leg of his pants and succeeded in disrupting his balance. When he fell to the ground, his grip on her hair loosened and she quickly got to her feet. She had only taken a few steps before he grabbed her around the neck. She gasped and clawed at the tightening hands. In her panic, she brought her heel down on his foot. He screamed and his hands fell away. He reached out for her again, but she evaded him. She pulled back her hand and drove her fist just under his eye. His head snapped back and she sunk her foot into his stomach. Groaning, he fell to the floor and she leaped over him. She felt a hand grab her ankle and she screamed as she was brought down hard on the floor. Her chin hit the ground and she tasted blood in her mouth.

"I said, you're not getting away this time," Alessandro said, pulling her back. Elizabeta clawed at the carpet but couldn't maintain her grip. She kicked her legs wildly and heard a howl of pain from behind her. The hand on her ankle was gone and she turned to see Alessandro clutching his face. She had kicked him in the eye with her stiletto. Not waiting for him to recover, she got to her feet and ran.

"Gilbert! Lovino! Luciana!" she screamed. There was fire everywhere. She could hear people screaming, but could see nothing but flames.

"Elizabeta!" she turned and saw Lovino and Gilbert running towards her. Gilbert was carrying someone in his hands and she saw that it was Luciana.

"Will she be okay?" she asked.

"Yes! I think she hit her head," Lovino yelled. "We need to find another way out!"

"What happened to you?" Gilbert asked. She brought a hand to her mouth and wiped away a stream of blood.

"Alessandro attacked me," she said to Gilbert, but she was facing Lovino. He stared at her but then turned away.

"Are there any other exits back there?" Gilbert asked.

"No! But I think I know a way we can get out. Follow me!" She lead them to the bathroom where Luciana had taken her earlier. The window was still open and when she stuck her head out of it, she saw that it was only a short drop from the ground. She climbed out first and then Gilbert, with Luciana still unconscious in his arms. Lovino was halfway out the window when Elizabeta saw him pulled back in.

"Lovino!" she screamed. She heard someone shouting and the sound of a scuffle. Seconds later there came the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't find her voice. Suddenly, Lovino appeared back at the window. He squeezed himself through and dropped to the ground in front of her. She ran to him and threw her arms around him.

"Stop that," he said, but didn't push her away. "We need to get out of here. The cops will be here soon." Just as he said this, Elizabeta heard the sound of sirens in the distance. "We need to get Luciana somewhere safe. I have a friend we can leave her with." The three of them took off down the street.

They left Luciana in the care of an old man who was called Carlo, who promised that he would take care of her.

"Tell her…tell her I'm sorry," Lovino said.

"What are your plans now, Lovino?" the old man asked. He was the first person Elizabeta had heard call Lovino by his name.

"I'm done with the family. Lima is dead. He and Vetra were on stairs when it fell."

"What of his son?"

"Sandro's dead," Lovino said shortly and Elizabeta noticed at that moment the blood on the front of his jacket.

"And the rest of the family?" Lovino shrugged.

"I don't know. I saw some people escape. They'll most likely be caught by the police, but, knowing them, they'll be out in a few days."

"They'll come after you."

"They won't be able to find me. Take good care of her, Carlo. And thank you." Lovino turned and walked out the door. Elizabeta and Gilbert followed him quietly.

.

.

.

Since she had come to Palermo, Elizabeta had wanted to come to the beach, but, due to the events of the past few days, hadn't had the chance. Now she sat on the cool sand, watching as the sky turned from black to light blue.

"Now that's lucky," Gilbert said. He held up a cigarette box. "I found this in my pocket. There's one cigarette left." Elizabeta didn't usually smoke, but then she realized that there were a lot of things that she didn't usually do before she started this journey. She didn't usually meet guys in clock stores. She didn't usually go drinking at 1 p.m. She didn't usually agree to go on a food tasting spree with a cute Italian boy. She didn't usually fall for crazy murderers. She didn't usually sit on beaches in Palermo, Sicily, sharing a cigarette with two other people, watching the sunrise.

But this one time she did.

* * *

"Why can't you come with us?" Elizabeta asked. They were in front of the hostel, loading the last of the bags into a taxi. "We could all go to Venice together. I promised Feliciano I would bring you back. What am I supposed to tell him?"

"Leave Feliciano to me. I need to finish a few things here first," Lovino said.

"What things?"

"Damn, you're nosy," he said. "None of your business".

Elizabeta frowned. "Why can't we stay with you until you finish these things?"

"Because it's not safe. In one night one of the most powerful families was almost wiped out. A major opportunity for territory has opened up. This city could explode at any second. You'll just get caught in the crossfire and it will be annoying if I have to save you again."

"But where will you go? Who will you stay with?"

Lovino shrugged. "I still have some friends around. Nowhere I'm going to tell you though."

Elizabeta crossed her arms. "That's not fair," she said.

Lovino smirked. "Sorry," he said.

Gilbert came out of the hostel with the last of the bags in his hands. Behind him was Vreneli who was crying pitifully.

"Please don't leave me! What will I do without you?" she cried.

"I dunno, maybe move on? Look, it's been fun and you're a sweet girl, but I'm not the type of guy you want to marry. I'm demanding, rude and obnoxious. Oh yeah, and I'm gay. Didn't mention that earlier?" Gilbert threw the bags into the back of the taxi and turned to face her.

"I don't care. I'll love you forever," she said.

"I'm flattered. Hey, Liz, can we go now?"

"One second," she said, before turning back to Lovino. "Please come with us. I came all this way to help you. It will all be in vain if you stay here."

"I wouldn't say so. You did help me. For the first time in my life, I'm free to make my own decisions. For that, I thank you." Lovino leaned over and kissed her lightly on her cheek. "_Ciao_," he whispered in her ear before he pushed her gently into the taxi.

"Gilbert," Elizabeta said as the taxi pulled away and Lovino grew smaller and smaller, "will everything be alright?" She didn't try to stop the tears and let them spill down her face.

"I don't know, Elizabeta. I really don't know."

* * *

_May 27th_

_Dear Elizabeta,_

_That is why we have express mail. Hopefully this reaches you on time. Be safe in Sicily. I've heard that place in dangerous. I look forward to seeing you soon,_

_-Roderich_

* * *

**A/N:**

The next chapter is Austria and I know it's gonna be a bitch to write. Luckily, school's over for the semester and I have a lot more time now. Don't worry, it definitely won't be as long as this chapter was and if it starts to become so, I will definitely break it up. I hoped I haven't ruined you guy's eyes forever...

Also, forgive me if I totally fucked up the geography of Palermo. Google Maps can only do so much ;A; Any buildings that don't actually exist (including the church and the hotels) were obviously inserted by me. How's that for a disclaimer? XD But the Fiume Oreto does exist. And you don't want to fall in it...urgh

If you have the energy, let me know what you thought of this chapter. In the meantime, I shall go soak my aching fingers in ice water -_-

-with love

dancer


	6. Austria: Day 30 - 32

**A/N:** Thanks so much for all the feedback for last chapter! I actually think that will be one of my favorite chapters in this fic. I had one reviewer ask if Alessandro = Turkey and the answer is nope. Sandro is just my beautiful, crazy, asshole OC.

Moving on. This chapter wasn't as hard as I thought it would be to write. And it isn't nearly as long as the last one. Yay! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia

* * *

_Austria:_

_Day 30 - 32_

Elizabeta didn't sleep on the train. Next to her, Gilbert snored softly and she envied how peaceful he looked. She had tried to sleep the evening before but had been jolted awake by a nightmare of a hooded figure chasing her down a burning alley that ended in a bottomless abyss, which she had fallen, screaming silently, into. She had been shaking when she had woken up and since then had refused to close her eyes. Instead, she watched the rolling hills, small towns and wide rivers pass by the window. Every time they made a stop, she was tempted to grab her bags and find the next train going to Sicily.

She checked her phone and then closed it with a sigh. Still nothing. Not even a text message. It had been less than twenty-four hours since she and Gilbert had left Palermo but she thought that she would have heard something from Lovino by now. Even just one word, to let her know that he was alright, would have made her happy. She had no way of reaching him herself. When she had first tried to call him, she had been informed by an automated voice that the number was no longer in service. This had caused her stomach to twist in knots and had sent her into a minor fit of worry, only slightly eased by the fact that she knew Lovino had a habit of getting rid of his phones when he didn't want to be contacted. She had even seen him drop one of a roof. She suspected that he had done this to both protect himself and to keep her away. When she had tried Feliciano's number she had received the same message. So either Lovino had instructed his brother to toss his phone as well, or the family had caught up to them both. She prayed that it was the former.

She had never known that you could care so much about someone you had only known for such a short period of time. What she knew about Feliciano were the quirky little facts he had told her when they hadn't been stuffing their faces with pizza and gelato. Lovino was virtually a mystery to her. Yet, she felt as if she had known both of them her whole life, especially Lovino. They had been through hell together, and traumatic events were notorious for bring people closer.

Gilbert made a noise in his sleep and rolled over so that his head was leaning against her shoulder. She didn't have the heart or the energy to shrug him off. He had been extremely supportive since they had left Palermo, for once, keeping his comments to himself and making an effort not to upset her. She couldn't imagine how much worse she would have felt if he hadn't been there. Once again, she was grateful that he had made her bring him along.

Careful not to disturb him, Elizabeta reached into her bag and pulled out the postcard that she had received just before they had left the hostel. She couldn't help but smile at Roderich's words of caution, that, a week earlier, she would have easily put off as sheer paranoia. She had decided not to tell him about what had happened to her. He had a bad habit of worrying, and, the last thing she wanted to do, was trouble him with her own problems and, in truth, she did not want to talk about Feliciano, Lovino or, God forbid, Alessandro, with anyone. Not even Gilbert. The memories were much too recent and still very painful. Not just mentally either. She still had bruises and scratches from her tumble into the warehouse basement and an ugly bruise around her neck where Alessandro had choked her. Absentmindedly, she reached under the bright scarf Gilbert had bought for her at the train station to touch the bruise. Almost immediately, she pulled her hand away and bit her lip. She wasn't in the mood to cry again. She did not think of herself as fragile. As a child, she had often been sent home from school for getting into fights on the school yard. And not girlish, petty arguments, but rough, physical altercations with the older boys who had teased her about her tomboyish ways. As an adult, she rarely got into arguments that ended up in fist fights, but she still knew how to take a punch. So it wasn't so much the bruises that hurt—they would fade eventually—but the fact that they had come from someone whom she had trusted and, for a short amount of time, thought she was falling in love with. Betrayal was another thing she had never really dealt with before this trip. Lovino had told her not to blame herself. Neither of them could have known Alessandro's true intentions but this didn't stop her from feeling incredibly stupid and naïve.

She had believed that this would be a romantic adventure, but it turned out that she knew less about the wickedness of the world than she had initially thought. The last thing she wanted to become was bitter and mistrusting. She wanted to believe that there was goodness in everyone, but things weren't as black and white as before. She resolved to learn from her experiences in Palermo and to never let herself be hurt and deceived like that again. She would be both kind and cautious.

Elizabeta nearly jumped out of her seat when the overhead speaker announced that they would be arriving shortly in Vienna. She glanced out the window, surprised at the inky color of the sky. She hadn't noticed how late it had become. Gilbert groaned and sat up in his seat, stretching.

"What did he say?" he yawned.

Elizabeta rubbed her tired eyes and tried to smile. "We're almost in Vienna."

"Goodie. I can't wait to finally meet this guy." Gilbert gave her a once over. "Did you sleep at all?"

Elizabeta looked away. "A little. I'm not really tired. I'm too excited to see Roderich."

"How are—"

"I'm fine," she said quickly. "Anyway, I have to fill you in on something before we get to Vienna."

"Please don't tell me that this guy has some incurable, contagious disease." It seemed that Gilbert was back to his normal self. Elizabeta scowled at him.

"No, don't be an idiot. This is serious."

"Like, missing a leg serious? Do I have to avert my eyes when I talk to him? Ouch! Okay, I'm all ears," Gilbert said, rubbing his head.

"You have to promise me that you won't mention what happened in Palermo to Roderich. If he asks, just say we had a good time. He's not normally nosy so no need to elaborate. We saw some sights and ate good food. The End."

"Why lie?"

"Because I don't want Roderich freaking out about everything. Contrary to what you might think, he's a good guy and he cares about me. Telling him what happened might make him try to persuade me not to keep going on this trip."

"You mean you still want to?" Gilbert asked, somewhat surprised. Elizabeta shrugged.

"I really don't know. I need time to think. I haven't seen Roderich in almost three years and we only have a few days together. I want to have a good time Gilbert and I don't want anyone or anything to ruin it. Got it?"

"I think you should just come clean but whatever, not my business. My lips are sealed."

"Thanks," Elizabeta said. The train began to slow down and they began packing up their bags.

"I hope he's here," Elizabeta said as they got off the train and stepped onto the crowded platform.

"You told him what time we'd be here, right?"

"Of course I did. It's just that he gets lost sometimes." Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"Sounds like an awesome guy to me," he said, dryly. Elizabeta didn't hear the comment. She had caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror in front of a small kiosk and cringed. She looked more than a little worse for wear. There were even dark circles beneath her eyes and the scarf around her neck had loosened slightly, revealing the dark mark beneath. She really didn't want Roderich to see her looking like the walking dead. It would only make him ask questions.

"Hold on Gilbert. I need to stop at the bathroom."

"How old are you? Five? Couldn't you have gone on the train? Do I have to hold your hand?"

"Shut up and hold my stuff. I'll be right back." Grumbling, Gilbert took her bags and headed towards the waiting area. It wasn't until Elizabeta was gone that he realized that he had no idea what her penpal looked like. He knew that she had pictures, but he was too awesome to ask to see them. As if he cared. The guy sounded like a grade A douchebag to him and Gilbert was glad that they would only be spending three days in his company. Gilbert half hoped that Elizabeta would decide to go on to Spain afterwards, like they had originally planned. He had only come along in the first place because he knew that, now that he was done with school, his brother would find some way to drag him back home to work at the company. Six months abroad, even if it was on some ridiculous quest for true love, had looked like a much better option than twiddling his thumbs at an office desk. Because of Elizabeta's general dislike of clubs and bars, which, in his opinion, were the only worthwhile places to visit on vacation, he hadn't expected to actually enjoy himself and had anticipated a relatively calm and boring trip. However, despite the fact that they hadn't gone clubbing once in Italy, he had had a good time. Even though Elizabeta had been a major cockblock, he had loved the change in atmosphere and being able to eat himself into multiple food comas. And, at first, the south hadn't been that bad either. At least until Elizabeta had told him that she a psychopathic killer after her. If it had been up to him, they would have been out of there on the first train, but his pigheaded best friend had insisted on staying and had almost gotten herself killed, again. Although she hadn't told him the full story of what had happened, he knew that she was hurting in more ways than one, which made him angry that he hadn't been able to take care of the bastard himself.

Gilbert reached the waiting area and dropped the bags onto the floor before sitting down with a loud sigh. A man sitting across from him shot him an annoyed look. He sneered back and flashed his middle finger. The man scowled and looked away. Gilbert smirked and wondered if he could possibly leave the bags for a few minutes to go buy a carton of cigarettes. He had a lot on his mind and it was beginning to give him a headache. No doubt, as soon as he stepped away, Elizabeta would come back, see the abandoned luggage and start screeching at him when he returned. So instead, he leaned back in his seat and pulled out his cell phone to re-read the message he had received a few hours after they had left Palermo:

_I'm going into hiding and sending my brother to a safe place. You won't be able to reach me because I'm destroying this phone. You probably won't be hearing from me again. Do NOT tell her about this message and do NOT let her come back here. If you do, I'll kill you._

It was from Lovino and, since he had received it, he had been debating with himself whether or not to show it to Elizabeta. He knew that she was worried that Lovino hadn't contacted her and wanted to tell her that he was fine, but he also knew that she could be incredibly impulsive and might run back to Sicily at any moment. The best thing would be for her to move on and forget about Italy and focus on where she was going next. The other half of Gilbert wanted both of them to just go back to Germany, where life was safe and uncomplicated. He was even willing to look in the other direction and let Elizabeta go out with his brother if that meant she would forget about all the bad things that had happened. However, in the end, Gilbert knew that no matter what decision Elizabeta made, he would probably only complain for a little bit before he agreed.

Gilbert looked around the other people in the sitting area and wondered which one was Elizabeta's penpal. There was a portly man who, every few seconds, would glance over his shoulder as if he was searching for someone. He had a bald spot and was wearing a sweat-stained t-shirt that said 'Ladies Love This Guy!'. Gilbert hoped that wasn't Roderich because, if it was, he would be spending the next three days in a hotel. And although he sounded like one in the letters he wrote to Elizabeta, who sometimes read snippets to him against his will, Gilbert thought it fairly safe to eliminate the women sitting around him. That left only him, the portly man and the snob from before. Deciding that both of them were out of the question, Gilbert guessed that Roderich had just gotten lost like Elizabeta said he might. Annoyed at the possibility of spending more time at the station, Gilbert zipped open one of his bags in search for a cigarette because he _always_ had at least one. He knew he should quit. Smokers were a dying breed in the 21st century (a joke he was no longer allowed to tell at family parties). Elizabeta told him to quit. His brother told him to quit, even though he knew that Ludwig smoked when he was stressed out. Growing up, he had been surrounded by smokers. He couldn't remember a time when there hadn't been a cigarette in his grandfather's mouth. It wasn't so much that he was addicted to smoking, but that he was used to it. Besides, he was too awesome to die from lung cancer anyway.

Gilbert found a cigarette rolled up in one of his socks, which looked clean enough for him not to care. As soon as he lit it, he felt ten times more relaxed and would have let his thoughts drift away if it hadn't been for the man across from him who had shot out of his seat the second he had lit up.

"Excuse me, sir," he said in an annoyingly authoritative voice as he stood in front of Gilbert, "but, in case you weren't aware, smoking is strictly prohibited in public places in Austria." Gilbert gave the man a once over. He had dark, swept back hair that was perfectly in place except for a stray curl that stuck up stubbornly. His eyes looked almost purple, which was an extremely rare, but not unheard of eye color. He had a beauty mark, or a mole, in the corner of his mouth. Gilbert didn't know whether to be more annoyed that this guy was in his face lecturing him or by the fact that he actually found him attractive. He blew a ring of smoke in the man's face and smirked.

"Bite me," he said. The man only raised an eyebrow.

"If you do not desist I will be forced to notify the security personnel."

"Is this a hobby of yours of something?" Gilbert asked.

"I don't understand. What is a hobby of mine?"

"Not minding your own fucking business." Gilbert blew another ring of smoke. "Now get lost." The man didn't budge.

"Do you know that every eight seconds someone dies from smoking and that smoking-related diseases kill one in ten people globally?" he said. Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"Please, I've heard every statistic known to man. My brother even made a poster for me. Fucking hypocrite. Can you go away now?"

"No, because, not only are you potentially harming yourself, but you're also exposing everyone in the vicinity to those noxious fumes."

"I don't really care."

"Honestly, I didn't expect someone like you to do so." Gilbert frowned.

"Someone like me?"

"Disruptive, unkempt, unclean—"

"I'll have you know that I take two showers a day!"

"It certainly shows," the man said dryly. Thoroughly irritated now, Gilbert made a motion to stand up and let the man know exactly who he was dealing with when he heard a girlish squeal behind him.

"Roderich!" Gilbert felt his stomach sink and didn't need to turn around to know whose voice that had been. To his horror, the man in front of him looked up and smiled, making him even more frustratingly handsome than before.

"It's nice to see you again, Elizabeta," he said when she reached them. Gilbert saw that she was grinning widely, the happiest he'd seen her since they had left Palermo.

"It's nice to see you too," she said before she hugged him. This caught Roderich by surprise and he looked completely unsure how to respond. Gilbert snickered at his awkwardness. It was this that caused Elizabeta to notice that he was sitting there and she immediately zeroed in on the cigarette in his hand.

"Oh my God Gilbert, are you seriously smoking in here?" Before he could say anything, she snatched away the cigarette and threw it to the floor, crushing it with her heel. "Don't you know you could get fined for that? Are you ever going to quit?" Gilbert crossed his arms.

"I'll quit when I feel like it." Agitated, he uncrossed his arms and pointed at Roderich. "And do not fucking tell me that this is your penpal." Elizabeta scowled and Roderich gave him a thin smile.

"Sorry to disappoint you," he said.

"Can you try not to be a jerk for once, Gilbert?" Elizabeta snapped. "Yes this is Roderich my penpal. Roderich, this is Gilbert Beilschmidt, my friend."

"Oh so I'm only your 'friend' now?"

"Don't start, Gilbert."

"Start what?" he said, getting to his feet, happy to find that he was taller than Roderich. "I just want us to all be familiar with each other." He stuck out his hand. "Gilbert Beilschmidt. You know, Beilschmidt like the car company? Yeah, my family owns that. And I'm Elizabeta's _best_ friend." Roderich glared at his hand for a second before shaking it.

"It's a pleasure."

"Liar."

"Gilbert!"

Gilbert bent down to pick up his bags, purposely leaving Elizabeta's on the floor. "Who's ready to get out of here? I am. More than 16 hours on a train is murder on my back." He started walking towards the exit, not really caring if the other two were following. That was hotel room was starting to look even more attractive than before.

"Sorry about that," Elizabeta said as they watched Gilbert go. "He's not half bad when you get to know him."

"I can imagine," Roderich said shortly. He handed Elizabeta her bags and they began walking slowly after Gilbert. "So how have you been?"

"Good, I've been good."

"Did you receive my last postcard?"

"Yeah, it's in my bag. Thanks."

"Was your trip to Italy enjoyable?"

"Y-yeah. It was great. Really great."

"And you didn't have any trouble in Sicily?"

"Nope. Absolutely not. It was great. Everyone was nice. Really nice." Her voice had a high-pitched, false cheerfulness to it that she hoped Roderich wouldn't notice. Without thinking, she reached up to adjust the scarf around her neck. She stole a glance at her penpal. He was cuter than she remembered.

"So what is this plan that you talked about in your letters?" Elizabeta blushed.

"Oh that…I'll, I'll tell you later." Before, she had felt a sense of pride every time she explained her plan, but, suddenly, the idea of explaining it to Roderich was embarrassing and stupid. After Gilbert, he was her closest friend and she had never had a problem telling him anything. But talking on paper was much different than speaking face to face and three years was a long time. The first time they had met it had been organized by the penpal program at their respective schools and had consisted of typical getting-to-know-you activities such as questionnaires and scavenger hunts. After the second day, Elizabeta had thrown out all of these and they had spent the day eating ice cream on the shore of Lake Constance talking about whatever came to mind. She had felt happy and relaxed at the time, but, then again, she hadn't just had a disastrous encounter with the Mafia. Now, she had no clue what to say and was overcome with the urge to confess everything that had happened over the past week right then and there. If Roderich hadn't spoken up at that exact moment, she might have done so.

"I apologize again for only being able to accommodate you three days," he said. Elizabeta blinked, taking a few seconds to register what he had said.

"Oh no," she said finally, "it's not your fault. It's all just unfortunate planning. A bad coincidence. And now that I'm done with school, I can come visit more often." Roderich smiled—she had always liked his smile—and she felt herself smiling back.

"That would be nice," he said.

"At the pace that you two are walking, the three days are going to come and go before you reach these doors," Gilbert called from the exit.

"I hope your friend doesn't mind sleeping on the couch," Roderich said.

"If he complains, you can throw him out."

"Do you hear that Liz?" Gilbert said when they all got outside.

"Hear what?"

"The sound of pure, authentic German. For the first time in two weeks I can actually understand everyone." Gilbert cupped his hands around his mouth. "HELLO MY PEOPLE!" he yelled. The few people on the street turned around to stare at them. Elizabeta wanted to sink into the ground.

"Well not exactly my people, you know, being Austrian and everything, but close enough." He turned back to Roderich and Elizabeta, who were both scowling at him. "So can we get a cab or something? I'm starving."

Next to her, Elizabeta heard Roderich let out a deep breath and she knew that the next three days would a test of patience for all of them.

* * *

Roderich came from a moderately wealthy family. His great-great grandfather had traveled to America during the gold rush and had returned home with a sizable fortune. The money had flowed nicely through the generations, growing a little each time. His family had become known for their extremely profitable overseas investments, particularly in the United States, as well as their ever growing real estate ventures. In contrast to Gilbert's family, who had only become successful in the past few decades, Roderich came from what people called 'old money'. His father had followed in his grandfather's footsteps and had gone into business. His mother had been a piano teacher. It was she who had taught him how to play and had encouraged him to continue, even though his father disproved. The two often got into arguments, but, in the recent years, his father had begun to accept that his son had no desire to inherit his role.

Roderich lived in a grand, spacious two-bedroom apartment in one of the many buildings owned by his family. The people who lived in the area were all 'old money' as well and didn't hesitate to show it. The first time Elizabeta had visited she had felt more than a little self-conscious in her €20 department store jeans and thrift store tops. She wasn't poor—her family was practically the definition of working middle class—it was just that, for some reason, her closest friends happened to be wealthier than the average millionaire.

Unlike Gilbert, who was usually nonchalant about his money—when he wasn't burning through his credit cards—and rarely acted like he was the grandson of the richest man in Germany, Roderich had the slightest touch of a snob to him. An outsider might use the term 'spoiled brat' but that would be disregarding that, while he could be stuck up, he was also very kind and, when he wasn't being a penny pincher, extremely generous. Although, at first, Elizabeta had been slightly annoyed at his upper-class and seemingly cold attitude, she had come to understand that that was Roderich only at face value. Anyone who took the time to get to know him would soon realize that he was a much warmer person than he initially appeared. For one, he never looked down on Elizabeta or intentionally acted superior to her. Although he could be judgmental of others, he always seemed to look past her simple, inexpensive clothing. He treated her differently from other people, though she wasn't quite sure why. Whatever the reason, in the years they had known each other, they had become good friends and that made her happy.

They arrived at Roderich's apartment later than anticipated because Gilbert insisted on stopping for food when he was informed that, in fact, there wasn't a five course meal waiting for him. When they finally arrived, Elizabeta stepped out of the cab tired and annoyed.

"Damn," Gilbert said behind her as he unloaded their luggage. "This is a nice place. What is this guy? Some aristocrat?"

"Says the guy who lives in a mansion," Elizabeta muttered. Roderich paid the driver—after some minor haggling—and then they followed him inside. The inside of the house was a mix of classic and modern. The kitchen, for instance, looked as if it came directly out of the pages of an upscale home and garden magazine while other rooms, such as the living room and the music room, looked as if they had been designed in the 18th or 19th century. After spending the past two weeks in cheap youth hostels, Elizabeta was very glad to be staying in a real home and sleeping on a bed that wasn't a bunk bed. Gilbert on the other hand…

"Why do I have to sleep on the couch?" he whined later when they were alone in Elizabeta's room. After Roderich had directed them to their sleep quarters, to Elizabeta's disappointment, he had said that he was tired and had gone to bed. Gilbert had made faces at his back until Elizabeta had pinched him. Now, she felt like smacking him with one of the hand-stuffed, Egyptian cotton pillows on the guest bed to shut him up.

"Because there are only two bedrooms," she said. "And don't put your feet on the bed."

"Why can't I just stay with you?" Gilbert asked, not moving. "It's not like we've never slept in the same bed and it will be a cold day in hell before anything happens."

"Only one person per bed per room," Elizabeta said. She pushed his feet off the bed. "It's one of Roderich's house rules."

"Lame. I wonder what he does when he has a 'friend' over. Wait, never mind. He probably gets as much as my brother a.k.a nothing."

"I'm two seconds from throwing this pillow at you."

"But I have a bad back!"

"No you don't. Stop whining. It's only for three days. And would it kill you to be nicer to Roderich?"

"It might." She threw the pillow. To her frustration, he caught it easily.

"What do you even see in this guy Liz? He's a brat with a 20 foot pole up his ass."

"Shut up!" Elizabeta hissed. "His room is down the hall! And you've only just met him. Haven't you ever heard of not judging a book by its cover?"

"I don't read many books, but you'd have to be blind not to realize that this guy's a dick."

"You're such a close-minded asshole. Give me my pillow back." She reached for it but Gilbert held it above her head and out of reach.

"You want it? Jump for it." She punched him in the stomach. He groaned and the pillow fell from his hands on to the bed. She grabbed it at the same time as he grabbed the opposite end. They both pulled, each of them unwillingly to let go until Elizabeta was afraid the pillow would rip in half. Suddenly, Gilbert smirked and let go and she went flailing backwards into the closet. All the clothes she had spent time arranging fell in a heap on top of her. She ripped a pair of jeans off her face and saw Gilbert cackling behind his hands.

"Your face…your face! You should have seen it when I let go. It was priceless! I wish I had a camera!" He collapsed, laughing softly, on to the bed.

"I don't know why I put up with you," Elizabeta said as she crawled out of the closet. She kicked the clothes on the ground back inside of it before closing the door. "I wanted a few days of peace. Is that too much to ask for Gilbert?" He finally stopped laughing and turned towards her. His gaze drifted down to her neck and she realized that her scarf had fallen off. Although she felt self-conscious, she refused to bend down and pick it up. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"What?" she said angrily. Gilbert's eyes met her own and she was surprised to see that they were sad. This made her angrier because that meant that he pitied her and that was the last thing she wanted.

"Nothing," he said before rolling off the bed. He picked up the scarf from the floor and handed it to her. She snatched it from his hand but didn't put it on.

"I'll see you tomorrow. 'Night" he said, closing the door behind him. She stood there for a few more seconds, staring at the door, before she tied the scarf around her neck and climbed into bed.

In the middle of the night, she was awakened from another nightmare. It was the same as the one before, except, this time at the end, when she had fallen into the darkness, she had reached out for help but her hand had only felt air. Elizabeta slipped out of her room and made her way quietly to the kitchen. She had to think for a bit before she remembered where Roderich kept his cups. She poured herself a glass of water and sat down at the table, wondering how much longer she would have to endure sleepless nights such as this. She looked up at a sound and nearly had a heart attack when she saw Roderich standing in the doorway. Despite her fright, she couldn't help but notice that, even with bed head, he was still handsome.

"Hi," she made herself say calmly.

"Hi."

"I couldn't sleep. I hope you don't mind that I borrowed one of your cups."

"It's no problem," he said.

"What are you doing up?"

"I thought I heard someone in here. At first I thought it was your friend looking for a midnight snack." Elizabeta blushed.

"Sorry."

"Think nothing of it. Are you alright?" The question came out of nowhere, catching her by surprise. Without thinking, she reached up to make sure the scarf around her neck was still in place.

"Why do you ask?"

"You looked tired today." She looked down at the table.

"I've just been having some trouble sleeping lately."

"Too much traveling?"

"You could say that?"

"Do you mind if I sit?"

"It's your table."

"I didn't know if you wanted company." Elizabeta grinned.

"Are you kidding? I came here to see you. Why wouldn't I want your company? I really missed you," she found herself saying. "It's really not the same, writing letters."

"Would you rather we try something else? I've recently been informed of something called scape, or skype." Elizabeta giggled.

"No, I like our letters. I just wish we could see each other more often."

"Well, after this festival, I will have considerably more time in my schedule. Perhaps, I could visit you in a few weeks."

"That would be great, except I'll probably be traveling." Probably. She was still thinking about that.

"Oh yes. This adventure of yours. You still haven't told me the purpose of it."

"It's kind of embarrassing actually."

"Then you don't have to say."

"It's…it's about finding true love." There. She had said it. She expected him to looked offended or even laugh. She didn't expect him to smile. It was a tired, half smile, but it was genuine.

"True love? And why, may I ask, would you be searching for that?"

"Because, now that school's over, I don't want to go through life alone," she said quietly. "Yeah I've got Gilbert but he's…Gilbert. And it would be nice to have someone I have a real connection with. Someone I can talk to about anything. Someone I can be myself with. Again, I have Gilbert, but I just feel that he's not going to be around forever. Not that we'll stop being friends or that anything will happen to him but he's not the kind of person to stay in one place for long and he has his own…destiny, if you believe in that, to deal with. And I've never been in love anyway. So…yes. Sorry, that probably sounded ridiculous."

"No, just surprising."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, you've never mentioned love in any of your letters and I've never thought of you as the type of person who would have to go on a trip to find it." Elizabeta remembered Ludwig saying something similar.

"Well, it seems that I am and I was really excited to travel."

"Was?"

"Am. I am excited to travel. I'm going to Spain after I leave here." _Maybe_.

"So I'm assuming that you were unsuccessful in Italy then?" She laughed. It sounded bitter.

"Very."

"But you expect to be successful?"

"I…I…" Again, he had caught her by surprise. Roderich noticed her struggling and immediately looked apologetic.

"Forgive me. It wasn't my place to ask," he said.

"No, it's just—" she yawned at that moment, remembering just how late it was.

"You should go back to bed. We can talk more tomorrow. I'll put the cup away."

"Thank you," she said, happy to have an excuse not to answer his question. "Goodnight."

"For what it's worth," Roderich said, causing her to pause at the doorway, "I hope you're successful." Elizabeta felt her throat tighten. She wanted to tell him everything, but the words were stuck.

"Thank you," she mumbled again. She left quickly before she blurted out anything she would regret.

When she was gone, Roderich picked up empty glass and set it in the sink. When they still used to fight bitterly, his father had always told him that he was terrible at expressing his feelings. He had countered that he preferred to do it via music. However, he couldn't help but think that, five minutes ago, his piano would have been useless. There wasn't a song on Earth that could say: "You don't have to look for someone to love you because I love you but it's quite embarrassing and difficult for me to say because, like yourself, I've never been in love and it's all very confusing but I know that I'm never happier than when I'm with you and I've kept every letter you've ever sent me and I wish you could stay forever so please don't go to Spain."

Roderich shook his head. He was tired and his thoughts were becoming less lucid by the second. He turned off the kitchen lights and went back to bed but didn't sleep.

* * *

"And here we have 'The Tower of Babel' by Peter Bruegel the Elder, circa 1563. It's actually one of my personal favorites because it's quite clever. When one thinks about the Tower of Babel, usually, they first attribute its failure to the divinely-caused linguistic differences. However, Bruegel seems to indicate that it was the actual engineering of the tower that was at fault. If you look closely, you can see that none of the layers lie on the horizontal, rather, the tower is built on an ascending spiral. See how the workers in the painting have built the arches perpendicular to the ground, making them clearly unstable. There are some that are even beginning to crumble. The most troubling aspect, however, is the—"

"Yawn!"

"…is there a problem Beilschmidt?"

"Yeah. I'm bored and this picture is ugly." Roderich scowled.

"This 'picture' is a work of genius."

"It makes no sense."

"That's what the artist was trying to illustrate. We _are_ dealing with the Tower of Babel."

"Well, I don't get it and if I don't get it then it's stupid. Can we go?"

"You just have no appreciation for fine art. What is your opinion Elizabeta?"

"Huh, me?" Elizabeta said, feeling like a deer in the headlights. She had been attempting to stifle a yawn behind her hand. "It's…lovely. But perhaps, we could move on to another gallery?"

"I see nothing wrong with this one and we're barely halfway through the paintings."

"I just don't think these are really my style."

"More like this place fucking sucks."

"Gilbert!"

"Come one Liz. We've been at museums all day. Is this really how you want to spend your time here? And I know for a fact that the only 'artwork' you appreciate is the kind on the internet that costs €19.99 a mon—" Elizabeta slapped a hand over his mouth, silencing him before he could further embarrass her.

"Haha, ignore him," she said to Roderich, who was looking at the pair with a confused expression. "He doesn't know what he's saying. I for one am having a good time." She was only half lying. A lot of the paintings were very pretty.

"I was thinking we could visit the Leopold Museum next. It has the world's largest Egon Soniele collection," he said. Elizabeta forced a smile.

"Sounds great." She let out a small shriek as she felt something wet slide across her palm. She quickly pulled her hand away from Gilbert's mouth and wiped it on the edge of her dress. "Ew Gilbert! That's disgusting!"

"I refuse to step foot in another museum," he said.

"Well you don't have to accompany us. Elizabeta and I will be fine without you."

"Yeah right and then the headline on the evening news will be 'Local Man Kills Woman With Boredom'."

"Are you capable of being anything except sarcastic?"

"I've heard 'charming' on multiple occasions."

"I find that hard to believe it."

"What the hell is your problem?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Hold on for a second, I'm trying to imagine you with a personality."

"Can you two—"

"If I throw a stick, will you leave?"

"—please—"

"Why are you so rude to me? I'm awesome."

"I'm not being rude. You're just insignificant."

"Ok, this has gone far enough," Elizabeta said, but neither paid her any attention. Their faces were now only centimeters apart and, if it wasn't for the angry looks on their faces, they would have looked as if they were about to kiss.

"I'm already visualizing the duct tape over your mouth."

"I'll try being nicer if you try being smarter."

"Right now I'm standing here, looking at you, trying to see things from your point of view but I can't get my head that far up my ass."

"Everyone is entitled to be stupid, but you abuse the privilege."

"Why don't you go outside and play hide and go fuck yourself?"

"Just how many times did your parents drop you as a baby?"

"How about a little less questions and a little more shut the hell up?'

"Sorry, I can't think of an insult stupid enough for you."

"If you're gonna act like a dick you should wear a condom on your head so you can at least look like one."

"I had a nightmare last night. I dreamt I was you."

"Excuse me sirs," out of nowhere came a security guard but he was more akin to Prince Charming in Elizabeta's opinion. There was already a sizable crowd around them by this time. "You're causing a disturbance and I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"That's fine by me," Roderich said. "I was just leaving. Come on Elizabeta." He took a step towards her and it was as if everything suddenly slowed down. She saw Gilbert's foot go out and opened her mouth to yell a warning but it was too late. Roderich went flying and then all hell broke loose.

.

.

.

"Wow Edelstein. For a pussy, you've got a pretty mean right hook."

"Gilbert, I am this close to breaking both of your arms. Do. Not. Start."

"I can't believe I actually resorted to violence. I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry that you have to witness that Elizabeta. I am quite ashamed of myself."

"Please, don't be. It's not your fault," she said.

"Oh, so it's mine now?"

"You tripped him!"

"How was I supposed to know he would fall into a painting worth two million? And he hit me!"

"You deserved it! Thank goodness Roderich's family makes yearly donations to the museum. You're lucky they didn't arrest us on the spot."

"Well at least we got out of that place." The three of them were seated on the curb a few blocks away from the museum. They were all prohibited from going within 100 meters of the building. Gilbert had an icepack on his cheek. Roderich had one on his hand. "Now we can go somewhere ten times more awesome. And I have the perfect place in mind."

.

.

.

"DRAW A CIRCLE, THAT'S THE EARTH. DRAW A CIRCLE, THAT'S THE EARTH. _I CAN'T FUCKING HEAR YOU GUYS!"_

"Why are we here again?" Roderich asked.

"I really don't know," Elizabeta said. They were both seated at a table across from the bar on which Gilbert was currently standing. He had a half-empty glass of beer in one hand—his fifth—and a microphone in the other. It was karaoke night.

"AHHHHH, THE WORLD AROUND US CAN BE SEEN WITH THE STROKE OF A SINGLE BRUSH. NOW LET'S TOAST WITH OUR FUCKING BOOTS!"

"He's actually not half bad," Elizabeta said.

"My ears are about to fall off."

"You know, I really want you two to get along. You're my best friends."

"He's not making it easy."

"Just be patient with him. Please? For me?" Roderich sighed.

"I will try but you must tell him to make an effort to be civil with me as well."

"Don't worry. I'll let him know. And, by the way, nice punch earlier. I didn't know you had it in you." She giggled as Roderich blushed. The alcohol was already getting to her.

"One more time!" Gilbert yelled from the bar. "I want to see some fucking toasts. TOAST WITH OUR BOOTS!"

"You heard him," Elizabeta said. She lifted her glass. Roderich sighed again but dutifully clinked glasses with her. On the bar, Gilbert chugged the rest of his beer and crowd exploded in cheers and applause.

* * *

Later that night, after some deliberation, they decided to forgo the opera and instead make the almost eight-hour drive to Lake Constance. Fortunately, Roderich hadn't bought the tickets yet. Elizabeta had never seen Swan Lake but she guessed that a play as famous as that was featured at Opera Houses around the world and that she could see it any time. If she did decide to go to Spain next, it was unlikely that she would have a chance to visit Lake Constance again soon. Because of the distance, it was impractical to return to Vienna afterwards so they would stay the night at a hotel in Innsbruck and take the train from there to their separate destinations. Roderich would go to his music festival in Frankfurt and Elizabeta and Gilbert would take a connecting train to Zurich and from there head to Spain. At least this was the 'official' plan. For Elizabeta, it was still subject to change.

The next morning, they rented a car, and, because Roderich didn't have his license—completely unnecessary in his opinion—and no one trusted Gilbert at the wheel, Elizabeta was forced to drive. They left at 5 a.m. to beat the tourist traffic. At the beginning, the drive was relatively calm. To keep herself from falling asleep, Elizabeta bought two extra large cups of coffee. Gilbert slept off his hangover in the backseat and Roderich busied himself with the map. The rental car was equipped with a GPS but he said that it never hurt to have back up directions in case of technological failure. As they drove, he and Elizabeta talked about everything from the EU to the rising costs of funerals. After the initial awkwardness on the first day, conversation between them flowed easily. Elizabeta loved having someone besides Gilbert with whom she could feel so comfortable with. She teased Roderich about his trouble deciphering the map and then almost drove off the road when she leaned over to point out that they were passing through Kapfenberg and not Linz. After that, she wasn't allowed to look at the map again.

Gilbert woke up a little after ten and the first words out of his mouth were: "I'm hungry". They stopped over at a McDonald's where, after complaining about the unhealthiness of everything, Roderich ordered half the items on the dollar menu. Elizabeta got a Big Mac and Gilbert ordered five. He slept another hour after this. When he woke up, he and Roderich proceeded to get into another argument, this time about the proper grammatical way to saw that one was going to Lake Constance, such as to visit, in comparison to physically going into Lake Constance. They went on for half an hour before Elizabeta threatened to drive the car off a bridge. That lead to five minutes of silence before Gilbert said that he wanted music. When none of them could settle on a station—rock for Gilbert, classical for Roderich, pop for her—she left it on the news and ignored the whining from the back seat.

They reached the lake a little after 1 p.m. and Elizabeta was overjoyed to be able to finally get out of the small car. In the last hour, the rising temperature, combined with utter boredom, had made all of them snappish and Gilbert and Roderich had been on the verge of another scuffle.

The town of Bregenz was already packed with people by the time they arrived. They parked the car in what Elizabeta believed was a suspicious looking lot and went to find a place to rent bicycles. Apparently, there were more people in town than they had initially thought because the only rental shop that wasn't closed or sold out had only two bikes left. One was bright pink with yellow and orange flowers emblazoned all over it and had shining tassels on the handlebars. The other was a two-seater bike. Elizabeta was automatically assigned the pink bike and Roderich and Gilbert fought over who got the front of the two-seater. Three rounds of rock, paper, scissors later, Roderich took his place at the front and Gilbert cursed him quietly from the back. They biked down to the shore of the lake, where large numbers of people were already camped with their beach towels, umbrellas and picnic baskets. Out on the lake, boats of all different shapes and sizes were already being sailed.

"So, what are we going to do first?" Gilbert asked. "Swimming or tanning?"

"You tan?" Roderich asked, eyeing his pale skin.

"Actually yes and, from what I've seen, since the only two shades you seem to have are pasty and red, you probably just burn."

"Now is really not the time guys," Elizabeta said. "Anyway, Roderich and I are going to keep biking. It's really crowded in this area."

"Well I see a beach volleyball game that I really want to join in," Gilbert said, pointing down the beach where a group of 6 guys had set up a net. Even from where they were standing, it was clear that they were all in perfect shape.

"Ok, then we'll leave the pink bike with you. Call if you need anything."

"Yeah, yeah," Gilbert said, only half paying attention. "Enjoy your little romantic trip."

"Stuff it," Elizabeta said. She climbed on to the back of the two-seater and she and Roderich left Gilbert to his own adventures.

"Do you remember the way?" Roderich asked as they swerved around wagons and other bikers.

"Vaguely. I think you can keep going straight and then turn left at the fork."

"Are you sure it's not right?"

"I can't be certain, but I think it's left."

"I shall trust you this time," Roderich said. They turned left at the split in the path and found themselves on a more private trail.

"Ok, I remember the way from here," Elizabeta said, happy that she had chosen the right way.

"Your memory is amazing. I can barely recall this path. Are we almost there? I'm afraid my legs are getting a little tired"

"I think it's only about five more minutes away. Right at the fork."

"You don't think that there will be many people there, do you?"

"Hopefully not. It's was deserted the last time we were there. It's a pretty secluded spot. I don't think many people would know about it." She was only half wrong. When they arrived at the beach, there were already two other groups there. One was a small family—a mother, a father and two small girls—and a group of three men that instantly made Elizabeta uncomfortable. Something about them struck her as odd and it wasn't until she and Roderich wheeled their bike past them that she realized that they were speaking Italian, in dialect that she recognized immediately at southern. One of the men had beautiful dark hair in the same slicked back style as Alessandro. His back was to her and the insensible part of her wondered if he turned around she would see the face from her nightmares. Although they had been laughing and talking at first, the men quieted down when the two of them walked past. She kept her head down the whole time. Her heart was pounding and she fought the urge to get back on the bike and head back towards the main beach.

"At least he's still there," Roderich said, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"Who?"

"Him." Roderich pointed to a man reading a book behind a small cart. It was the ice cream man who had given them two free cones the first time they happened upon this secret part of the beach. Once again, Elizabeta wondered why he would set up shop over here when he could make so much more money on the main beach.

"I don't remember that," she said, pointing to a small dock that jutted out above the water near the middle of the beach. Equipped to the railing was a pair of binoculars. It was the type that cost a few precious cents for a cheap view that last, at most, ten seconds. "So much for natural, scenic views."

"I still find it better than the main beach. How is this spot?" They were at the far end of the beach, a good distance from the other groups.

"Perfect." The unpacked their towels and let the bike lay on the sand. Cross-legged, they sat watching the rolling waves. Each had a secret on their tongue but were too afraid how the other would react to the confession.

"What time is your train leaving tomorrow?" Elizabeta asked.

"Noon. I actually prefer leaving from Innsbruck. The station in Vienna is always annoyingly crowded. When are you leaving?"

"I think around two? I have to check again." She didn't tell him that she hadn't bought the tickets but had only glanced at them online, wanting to click 'purchase' but being unable to.

"Where in Spain will you be visiting?"

"The Canary Islands. Gilbert's grandfather left him a house there."

"How fortunate."

"I know. It will probably be all rich snobs and prep school boys—no offense. I don't think I'll find anyone there."

"And after Spain?"

"France." Roderich made a face.

"A vile country. Then?"

"England, then America."

"America? This really is an adventure."

"Well almost all of my savings are going in to it. That's over six years of babysitting and summer jobs. So it better be an epic adventure."

"And after America?"

"Canada, then Japan, then Russia."

"Why Russia?"

Elizabeta shrugged. "It was on the way."

"That's quite a list of countries you have there. I'm impressed. Not many people could do what you are doing. It's very brave of you."

"Yeah," Elizabeta said quietly. She picked at a lose thread on the blanket. "It's a lot more tiring that I expected."

"In what ways?"

"Um, like, well…time zones. It gets annoying dealing with the different ones."

"But aren't Italy and Germany in the same time zone?" Elizabeta mentally kicked herself for making such an obvious error.

"Um, yes. I meant jetlag. No, not jetlag, that's planes. I mean…do you want some ice cream? It's getting really warm." Her ramblings were going to get her in trouble. Roderich was giving her an odd look but he nodded.

"I'll get it," he said.

"Cool. I think I'll go check out the view from the dock."

She got up before Roderich could say another word. She knew she was acting strange. Roderich always respected her privacy but even he would probably start asking questions soon. What she needed to do was calm down.

"Don't think about Italy." She said to herself. "Don't think about Italy." When she reached the dock, she was pleased to find that the binoculars actually cost nothing. She peeked through them and was delighted to find that they gave her a charming view of the main beach. She couldn't see Gilbert among the crowds so she guessed that either the game had moved beyond her sight or he had found something, or someone, more interesting. Elizabeta looked back at the lake, admiring all the boats sailing smoothly on the surface. Some even had names on the side like "The Duchess" and "The Little Dipper". The latter, she thought, was an unfortunate name for a boat. She heard footsteps next to her her. Thinking it was Roderich, she opened her mouth to tell him to come and see the view when she saw a flash of gold out of the corner of her eye. Immediately, she froze, although her pulse tripled. Roderich didn't wear any jewelry except a cross around his neck. But that was silver, not gold. A quick glance to the side confirmed that it was one of the men from earlier—the one with the dark, swept back hair. She could see his face clearly now and she was relieved to see that he looked nothing like Alessandro. However, there was still the chance that he was somehow related to the family. The idea was completely absurd; there were Italian tourists all over the world and none of the men seem very suspicious. But Lovino still hadn't contacted her and if they had caught him and tortured him into tell them where she was…

"Calm down Liz. Calm down," she thought to herself, although it sounded vaguely like Gilbert's voice in her head. "Calm down and count to three." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "One, two…three." She opened her eyes and looked to her left. The man was nowhere in sight. She sighed.

"I'm just being paranoid…" Suddenly, she felt a strong grip on her shoulder.

"Excuse me, beautiful," came the voice in her ear. Her reaction was immediate. Her first went flying and connected with a satisfying crunch. The man released her and fell back onto the sand, clutching his now broken nose.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he yelled. She stared at him in horror, knowing she had made a terrible mistake.

"Elizabeta!" She looked up to see Roderich running towards her. "What happened?"

"I…I…oh God. I'm so sorry. So so sorry." The man's friends had run over when they had heard him scream. The other group, the family quickly packed their things and left the beach. When they saw what she had done to their friend, the other two men looked at her in disbelief.

"Are you insane?" one of them said angrily.

"No, no! He caught me by surprise! It was an accident!"

"Yeah right. Do you usually go punching people by accident?"

"No, no, no. I'm sorry! Please, I didn't—" Elizabeta covered her face with her hands. She had no idea what in the world was happening to her. She jumped at a cool touch on her arm and looked up to see Roderich. He was looking at her with concern, not a trace of accusation in his violet eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked slowly. She shook her head.

"No."

"Ok, let's get out of here." She followed him off the dock. They had only gone a few meters when they heard a shout from behind. The both turned to see the man Elizabeta had punched walking quickly towards them.

"Oh no," she groaned.

"I'll take care of this," Roderich said, standing between her and the man. "Whatever the problem is sir, my friend already apologized and—" The man didn't give him a chance to finish before striking out with his fist. Elizabeta screamed as Roderich fell to the ground.

"Keep your bitch on a fucking leash," the man said, pointing down at Roderich. He spat on the ground and began walking away. Before she knew what she was doing, Elizabeta pulled off one of her sandals and threw it at the back of the man's head.

"Hey asshole. Why don't you say that to my face?" she yelled in Italian. The man growled and marched up to her so that they were face to face. He was over a head taller and had a least 200 lbs on her. He was wearing a white, sleeveless shirt that displayed his muscled, tattooed arms. She was wearing a green sundress and one espadrilles sandal.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" she said. He grinned widely and leaned in close enough that she almost gagged from the smell of his cheap cologne.

"I don't hit women," he said. It was her turn to grin.

"Too bad for you," she said before she delivered a right uppercut to his jaw. His head snapped back and before he could recover, she brought up leg and kneed him in the balls. He doubled over, groaning in pain and she then brought her elbow down on the back of his neck, sending him face first into the sand. In seconds, she was on top of him, her knee pressing into the small of his back, one hand keep his face in the sand, and the other twisting his arm back.

"Look, you sack of shit," she snarled, "you can cry and whine and plead all you want. It won't help you." She twisted his arm further back and he screamed. "You have no idea what I went through or what I saw last week. It was hell and it's been fucking with my head ever since. So the last thing I need is a douchebag like you getting in my face and hurting my friend. I could break your arm right now. You do know that? But today must be you lucky day because if you get out of here now, I won't leave you a quadriplegic. Take your stupid friends with you. Got it?"

"Y-yes," the man whimpered.

"And apologize to my friend."

"Sorry!" She twisted his arm once more, just to make sure he got the message before she got off him. Immediately, he scrambled to his feet and started running in the other direction, his friends right behind him. Elizabeta watched them go until they vanished into the trees. Then she turned back to see that Roderich was staring at her with a completely stunned expression. His nose was bleeding. She kneeled down in front of him.

"I need to tell you something," she said. "But, first, let's take care of you." He nodded slowly. She held out her hand. He took it.

.

.

.

"Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?" Elizabeta shrugged and kicked her legs slowly in the cool water, making tiny waves. They were seated at the edge of the dock. Roderich had an icepack on his nose. She had told him everything.

"I didn't want you to worry."

"So you lied?" She winced at the angry tone.

"I'm sorry. I thought I could forget about it, at least while I was here. I just wanted us to have a good time without having to deal with my stupid problems."

"Elizabeta! This is far from stupid. This man tried to kill you. You should have called the police."

"Even if they weren't working for the family, they would have arrested Lovino. Besides, Alessandro was already dead," she said coldly.

"What, what did he do to you?" Elizabeta reached up and pulled the scarf off her neck. The bruise was mostly faded but still visible in the light. She shivered slightly when Roderich ran a finger over it.

"I'm sorry," he said finally.

"Me too." She wiped a rebellious tear off her cheek. "My problem now is that I don't know what to do next. Part of me wants to stay here or go back to Germany, but the other part wants to keep going on to Spain. I spent weeks planning this trip and I've already put so much money into it and to give up now is the last thing I want but I would lying if I said I wasn't scared. And not of someone taking a swing at me. I can handle that."

"I saw."

"But how can I trust anyone now? How do I know that the next guy I meet won't be a homicidal maniac in disguise?"

"Do you trust me?" Roderich asked. She looked up at her him, her bright green eyes wide.

"Of course, I would trust you with my life." At that moment, she looked so vulnerable that Roderich knew that, with one word, he could make her forget this whole trip and stay with him. They would be happy together and he would never let anyone break her heart again, even if they broke all of his bones. Except that he loved her too much to be selfish. Even if she was scared now, he knew that she would regret it forever if she gave up now. Elizabeta was looking for something, something special, something most people only dreamed about. And it was clear that she wasn't going to find it here. He would just have to let her go.

"We both know that you can't stop now. You have to keep going."

"But—"

"You're the smartest and most resourceful person I know. If anyone can recover from an ordeal like that, it's you. Once in awhile, we all mistakes. We get hurt. But we can't let that stop us, can we? What would have become of Beethoven and Mozart if they had given up at the first sign of trouble? It might take time, but, eventually, we all heal. We all get back on your feet." He smiled at her. "I know you'll be fine." Elizabeta felt her face break into a wide grin. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," she said. When she pulled away, she saw that he was blushing and this made her smile wider. "I think just being here with you has helped me more than anything." She looked down at her hands. "I…I…I really do—" Before she could finish, she felt a mighty shove from behind and went flying into the lake. She came up sputtering and coughing, completely bewildered by what had happened until she looked up and saw Gilbert grinning down at her from the dock.

"Well don't you two make a disgustingly sweet pair? Do you know how long I've been looking for you guys? I was riding that stupid bike for hours. What the hell were you doing out here? Oh shit, were you about to—" Elizabeta splashed furiously in the water.

"Gilbert, I'm going to kill you! Help me out of here!"

"Ok, ok. Calm down." He held out is hand. She grabbed it and pulled him into the water. She hadn't anticipated that when he fell, he would grab Roderich and that both of them would tumble into the lake.

"What in the world is your problem?" Roderich sputtered when he surfaced.

"You are," Gilbert said bluntly. Before Roderich could reply, Elizabeta splashed both of them.

"Both of you stop it!" she said. "Can you not fight, for once?"

"I'm willing to be cordial if he is," Roderich said.

"Fine, I won't mention how he looks like a—" Elizabeta splashed Gilbert again. "Fine! I'll be good! Oh yeah, Liz. I wanted to tell you that I got like ten numbers today. Who's awesome?"

"Not you," she said.

"Haters gonna hate. So I heard there were fireworks tonight. Let's watch." Elizabeta looked at Roderich. He shrugged.

"Why not?" he said.

"Fine by me," she said. "But it will be a late drive to Innsbruck."

"Don't worry, I'll take the wheel this time," Gilbert said.

"Hell no." Roderich and Elizabeta both answered

* * *

"I'll write to you as soon as we get to Spain."

"I look forward to hearing _everything_." Elizabeta smiled.

"I'll be sure to include every little detail," she said. They were at the train state in Innsbruck. Roderich's train was scheduled to arrive any second. She and Gilbert would loiter around the station until two when the train that would take them to Zurich would arrive.

_Now arriving: Number 22 to Frankfurt am Main_

"That's me," Roderich said. Elizabeta gave him one last hug.

"Thanks again," she said.

"Hold on a second," Roderich said. He put down his bag and reached over to undo the scarf around her neck. He then proceeded to tie it around her head so that it was more like a headband. "There. It looks better that way." Elizabeta smiled.

"What do you think Gilbert?"

"Cute."

"Really?"

"No, I just said that so you wouldn't bug me." She scowled. "But it's not ugly. I approve."

"Good enough for me," Roderich said. He turned to Gilbert. "Well Beilschmidt…it's been a pleasure." He held out a hand. Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

"Ok, two things," he said. "First, that was a fucking lie."

"Gilbert!"

"It's true! I can't stand him and he can't stand me. Second—" He took Roderich's hand and pulled him towards himself. Then he leaned in and kissed him full on the mouth. Elizabeta almost keeled over in shock.

"I've been wanting to do that ever since I laid eyes on that stupid aristocrat face of yours," Gilbert said when he pulled away. Roderich was speechless, his face bright red. "But I still don't like you." Roderich finally snapped out of his shock and, glaring, straightened his collar.

"The feeling is mutual."

"You two are going to kill me," Elizabeta said. _That was really…hot_, she thought to herself. "You better get going so that you don't miss your train Roderich."

"Uh, yes. Take care of yourself Elizabeta. Write soon. Goodbye"

"Will do," she said waving. "Bye." When he was gone she turned on Gilbert. "What the hell was that?" He grinned.

"An opportunity I couldn't resist. Jealous?" She blushed.

"N-no!"

"Yeah you are. Just look at your face!"

"Shut up!"

"Maybe I'll kiss him again next time."

"You will do no such thing!"

"See? Totally jealous." Elizabeta smacked him but he only laughed. "By the way, how are you feeling?" He asked, his tone suddenly more sober. She knew right away what he was referring to.

"I think I'm going to be ok," she said, touching the scarf in her hair.

"Um, I've actually been meaning to show you—"

"What I need to do now is move on," she said, cutting him off. "I need to put Italy and Lovino behind me and focus on the future. Sorry, what were you saying?"

"Nothing."

"You sure?" Gilbert nodded and tried to quash the guilty feeling in his chest.

"Yeah, totally. Oh, what's this?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out his ringing cell phone. His eyebrows shot up when he saw who was calling. "What could he possibly want?"

"Who is it?" Elizabeta asked. Gilbert put a finger to his lips and answered the phone.

"Hey! Fancy hearing from you. If this is about the money…..What?...Austria….What? Now?...Why?...Yeah, she's here….I'm confused….Fine, fine. Don't get snappy. I got it. Bye." Gilbert closed his phone. "Love you too," he said wryly. He turned to Elizabeta. "Change of plans."

"Say what? Who was that?"

"Vash. We're going to have to stop at Switzerland."

"What? Now?" she exclaimed just as he had done.

"Yeah, now. We were heading to Zurich in the first place so it's not like it's out of the way."

"But what does your cousin even want from you?" she asked. Gilbert shook his head.

"Not me. He asked for you."

* * *

**A/N:** Surprise! Next chapter will be Switzerland/Vash. That will be the first of five surprise!chapters I have planned out. I'm so sneaky, tee hee. Poor Spain will have to wait another week.

On a side note, I've actually been to Lake Constance a.k.a The Bodensee. I was on the Germany side. It's very pretty and I got ice cream while I was there. It took me forever to figure out how to say "I'm going to the Bodensee" in German and not mean that I'm actually going into it. So I can understand Gilbert's frustration, haha.

-with love

dancer


	7. Switzerland & Liechtenstein: Day 33 - 39

**A/N: **Another long chapter! Hooray! /avoids rotten fruits. Forgive me! It honestly was never supposed to be this long! But it's still not as long as chapter five so it's all good, right? /avoids more rotten fruit. Maybe the little surprise at the end will make up for the length...

I love all of you and your wonderful feedback! Enjoy the chapter!

**Extra Note: Lili = Liechtenstein **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

* * *

_Switzerland and Liechtenstein:_

_Day 33 - 39  
_

_June 3rd,_

_Dear Roderich,_

_I'm writing this to you from camp. Why am I at camp? Long story. It involves Gilbert's cousin. I'll explain later._

_ I hope you're enjoying your music festival. Thanks again for all your advice. It was wonderful seeing you again. You must promise not to wait another two years before you come visit me!_

_I've enclosed the address to Gilbert's house in the Canary Islands. That's where we'll be heading next. Wish me luck!_

_~Elizabeta_

_p.s- I'm so so sorry about what Gilbert did at the train station. I can understand if you hate him now._

* * *

"Remember what I told you Liz: eye contact. If you start getting all shifty-eyed he'll think you're planning something and will shoot you. Also, keep your hands where he can see them. If you start moving around he'll think you have a weapon and shoot you. Always sit up straight. He'll shoot you if you slouch. And never talk back to him…he'll shoot you. Also—"

"Gilbert, shut up. You're freaking me out," Elizabeta said through clenched teeth.

"I'm just trying to prepare you. Do you want to get shot?"

"No, but this is ridiculous. Next you're going to tell me that I can't breathe or I'll get shot."

"Only if you breathe too loudly," Gilbert said matter-of-factly. Elizabeta rolled her eyes.

"I don't believe that your cousin is as bad as you make him out to be," she said.

"Fine. Have fun getting shot. Don't say I didn't warn you." Elizabeta ignored him and took a sip of her tea. It wasn't very strong. Gilbert had told her that Vash was extremely frugal. He only ever bought the bare minimum and then saved it for as long as he could.

"Basically, he's insane," Gilbert had said on the train.

"For not wanting to be wasteful? You could learn a thing or two from him."

Because of his supposed extreme penny-pinching ways, she had expected Gilbert's cousin to live in a small house or apartment. She hadn't expected the sprawling estate surrounded by iron fences with cameras and security guards at every corner.

"Oh yeah, he's super paranoid too," Gilbert said when they had checked in at the security building. The check-in process had involved them not only having to sign in but to also undergo fingerprinting and a brief background check. Elizabeta thought it strange that Gilbert had to go through the process as well. When they had both finally been approved they had been led by two tight-lipped security guards through the expansive grounds to the large house. They had then been handed off to an unsmiling housekeeper who had then escorted them to a large, empty room and, after bringing them a tray of weak tea and dry bread, told them that Mr. Zwingli would be with them shortly. Before Elizabeta could even for more sugar, the woman had slammed the door shut.

Not for the first time since they had left Innsbruck, Elizabeta wondered what she was doing. She had been fully ready to continue her journey but here she was, delayed gain. She hoped that whatever Vash wanted from her wouldn't take long. What she feared the most was that she would become too scared, too worried, if she didn't leave immediately. Out of habit, her hand drifted to her phone to check her messages. When she realized what she was doing, she stopped herself with a firm command.

"_No, I can't do this anymore,"_ she thought. She had told Gilbert and she had promised herself that she would put Italy behind her. Lovino didn't need her. He was probably better off without her getting in his way. After all, she had almost gotten both of them killed. Yes, she was the last person that Lovino would want to get in contact with now. He could take care of himself and his brother. When she was being honest with herself she realized that what hurt the most was not that he hadn't sent her any sort of message but that there was a good chance that she would never see him again, which made her chest tighten and her throat go dry. She still didn't understand how it was possible to know someone for only a week but still feel so much…

Elizabeta looked up at the sound of a door opening and approaching footsteps. Not from the direction the housekeeper had left but from the direction of the large, beautifully carved twin doors on the opposite side of the room.

"Oh shit," Gilbert whispered. He looked paler than normal. "Here he comes, brace yourself."

Despite her brave words earlier, she was suddenly nervous. The double doors opened and into the room stepped a man, not much taller than herself, with short blond hair and piercing green eyes. He was dressed in a long, dark green jacket that had a classic military look to it and wore polished boots that clicked commandingly against the tiled floor. For some reason Elizabeta immediately knew that this was Vash, although he was nothing like the great bear of man she had imagined him as. Gilbert was on his feet in seconds.

"Well if it isn't my favorite cousin," he said, his arms outstretched as he walked forward. It seemed that everything he had told Elizabeta not to do didn't apply to him.

"I would stop right there," Vash said. He pulled open his coat to show the two handguns strapped to his side, causing Gilbert to freeze.

"You're not still angry with me about the last time, are you?" he asked.

"Actually, I am," Vash said, scowling. "And I didn't call you here so that we could make up." He turned to Elizabeta and she tried not to blink as his green eyes met hers.

"You're Elizabeta Hédeváry?" There was surprise, not disappointment in his voice, but for some reason this still unnerved her.

"Yes, that's me," she said. She gave him a small smile. "It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

"Most likely nothing good," he said, shooting Gilbert a look. "I hate wasting time on mindless chatter so I'll just tell you now why I've asked you to come here. I know this is short notice, but I didn't have anyone else I could ask. You were actually referred to me by Ludwig." Elizabeta's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Really?" she asked. "What did he say? How is he?"

Vash shrugged. "Fine, as far as I know. He said that you're a good, honest person and that I could trust you. He also said that he couldn't think of anyone better suited for the job." Elizabeta felt strong feelings of warmth and happiness swell inside of her. She could never have asked for a better friend than Ludwig. She would forever be grateful to him for everything he had done for her. It was strange, and she only realized it at that moment, but she had ceased to have any romantic feelings for him. In fact, not since…Elizabeta suddenly realized that Vash was still talking and chided herself for not paying attention and letting her thoughts wander.

"…so, after thoroughly checking your background—not that I don't trust Ludwig, but you can never be too careful—I decided that you were my best option so I called Gilbert to bring you here," Vash finished.

"But why? You still haven't told me," she said. They all turned around at the sound of a light tap on the smaller door. The door opened and a young girl peeked shyly into the room. She looked very much like Vash and even had the same cropped hairstyle.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she said in a soft voice, "but I was told that you needed to see me brother?"

"Yes and you've actually come at the perfect time. I was just about to explain to Miss. Hédeváry why I've asked her here."

"Hey Lil!" Gilbert said. He rushed over to hug her.

"It's nice to see you again too, Gilbert," the girl said, her voice slightly muffled. "I hope you've been having a nice trip."

"Let her go, Gilbert. Now," Vash said sharply.

"I'm not even allowed to say hello?"

"Now's not the time. Sit down." Grumbling, Gilbert resumed his seat. "Miss. Hédeváry—"

"Elizabeta, please."

"…Elizabeta. This is my sister, Lili. She's the reason I've asked you here." Lili gave a small curtsey.

"It's nice to meet you Miss. Elizabeta," she said sweetly.

"It's nice to meet you too," Elizabeta said. Immediately, she was in babysitter mode. "May I ask how old you are?"

"Thirteen," she said, which surprised Elizabeta who thought she looked hardly older than eleven. Most of the children she dealt with were between four and ten so Lili was only slightly outside her usual range. Still, she decided it would be best to change her tone and tactics.

"So do you know why I'm here?" she asked. Lili looked over at her brother who nodded.

"I attend a girls-only preparatory school in Liechtenstein and tomorrow we will be going on a week-long camping trip with our brother school."

"Which just happens to be boys-only," Vash added, his tone making it clear how he felt about this.

"This is the first time the two schools have ever done this. Because of the large amount of students that will be present, they've asked for many volunteers to help out. My brother will be volunteering with the other school and he hoped that you would volunteer at mine." Elizabeta was at a loss for words.

"Lili's never been away like this before and I wanted someone with her whom I can trust," Vash said. "I don't have any female colleagues or friends that I am close to so I was extremely relieved when Ludwig told me about you. I can tell by the look on your face that this wasn't what you were expecting."

"Well of course not," Elizabeta said, finally finding her voice. "You're asking for a very big favor. And I would have to stay the whole week?"

"Yes," Lili said in her soft voice. "I think it will be a fun trip."

"Wait, what about me?" Gilbert asked. "I'm invited too, right?"

"Actually, you're not. You would remain here until we return," Vash said.

"How can I not be invited? I'm the best camper ever!"

"That hardly matters. I don't need you so you're not invited. End of discussion."

"Then good luck having a fun time without me. Elizabeta is not half as awesome company as I am."

"Shut up, Gilbert. You're not being left behind, because I'm not going." She turned back to Vash. "Maybe Ludwig mentioned it, but I'm kind of in the middle of an important trip and I don't know if I can afford to be delayed a whole week. I mean, it's not that I don't want to help but, until recently, I haven't really been myself and even now I don't think I'm at 100% so I'm probably not the best person for the job. I'm sorry."

Vash cleared his throat and, for a second, looked pained before he spoke in a halting voice. "If…if it's a matter of m-money. I'll be ha-ha-happy to com…pensate you." He looked visibly ill when he finished.

"No, money is the last thing I need right now, but thank you," she said. Vash instantly looked relieved that he wouldn't have to pay her.

"So you're sure about this?" he asked. Elizabeta nodded.

"I'm sorry that you went through all this trouble," she said. "I haven't been camping in a long time and it does sound like fun. Perhaps another time?"

"That would be nice," Lili said.

Vash sighed. "In that case, you two are free to go. I'll figure something else out. But one last thing…Gilbert!" Gilbert had been stacking the teacups and plates on top of each other and nearly knocked them over in fright. "We need to talk in my office. Now." Vash then turned on his heel and strode out the double doors.

"What did I do this time?" Gilbert moaned as he followed him. He closed the doors behind him, leaving only Elizabeta and Lili in the room.

"Is Gilbert going to get in trouble?" Elizabeta asked.

"No, I believe my brother just has another favor to ask of him. He's actually very happy to see him again."

_Really? I couldn't tell,_ Elizabeta thought. "Well that's good then."

Lili pointed to the chair next to her. "May I sit?" she asked.

"Of course! This is your house after all!" She was almost envious at the gracefulness with which the younger girl settled herself down onto the chair.

"Miss. Elizabeta, I don't want you to think I'm pressuring you but, from what I've heard from Gilbert and from what I've seen, you seem very nice. Also, I don't think Ludwig would lie. Can I ask what sort of trip you're on?" Lili asked.

Elizabeta blushed but answered proudly, "It's a journey to find true love. I'm traveling all over the world to find it."

"That's very impressive. And do you think you'll be successful?" That was the same question Roderich had asked her.

Elizabeta shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. I knew when I started it wasn't going to be easy, but it's turning out to be more…complicated than I could ever imagine. Part of me still doesn't know whether it's worth it to even keep going."

"I'll tell you a secret Miss. Elizabeta," Lili said, smoothing out her skirt. "Even though you might have already guessed it, my brother is a very proud person and he very rarely asks for help. And when he does, he sets his standards very high. If he didn't think you were right for the job, he would have told you to leave the moment he saw you."

"I'm flattered but…" she trailed off. Lili smiled.

"But what?"

"I just…I just don't want to fall behind on this trip."

"Perhaps it's impertinent of me to say so, but I believe that love will wait for you."

"It's less about it waiting for me and more about me being too scared to go after it. To be honest, I haven't had the best luck so far with it." Even though she barely knew this girl, she was telling her her secrets. There was just something calming about her presence and the fact that Elizabeta felt that Lili would never judge her. It was an entirely baseless feeling, but it seemed so right to believe in.

"Maybe you've been looking for it in the wrong places? I've heard that often the things you want the most are right in front of you. I can only imagine that this would apply to love as well."

"And what do you know of love?" Elizabeta asked, amused.

Lili shrugged. "Not much. I love my brother very much, but that's it. Do you know very much about it?"

Elizabeta sighed. "Unfortunately, no. I'm as much as a beginner as you. And the last thing I want to do now is make any more stupid mistakes." Already, she was beginning to think that perhaps jumping back in headfirst wasn't the wisest decision. "What I really need is some more time to think and clear my head," she admitted.

"Is a five days long enough?" Elizabeta suddenly saw that this was where Lili had been leading her the whole time. She was sharper than she looked.

She grinned."Five days would be perfect," she said. When she had first made her plans she had estimated that the trip would take at least 140 days out of a possible 180. The other 40 had been set aside as traveling time and emergency days. This seemed like the moment to use some of those emergency days.

"So perhaps you will reconsider my brother's offer then? I would very much like to get to know you better and would love to hear about your journey so far. It all sounds very romantic."

Elizabeta laughed. "Trust me, it's not all it's cracked up to be. You know, I'm beginning think some time spent in the great outdoors would be just perfect." She thought about the typical camp activities: swimming, canoeing, hiking. It all sounded very relaxing. Hopefully there would be archery. She almost laughed out loud when she realized that she would essentially be taking a vacation from a vacation.

"Does this mean you'll come?" Lili asked.

"On one condition. Will I be able to get cell phone service out there?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't think so."

"Then that's perfect. Sign me up."

* * *

The bus struck another hole in the road and Elizabeta had to grab onto her seat to keep from lurching forward. The girl behind her, who, seconds before had been giggling in her ear, let out a small gasp as she was thrown into the air and landed with a soft thud back in her seat.

"Someone needs to tell the driver that you're supposed to drive around the potholes, not into them," the girl hissed as she straightened herself back up.

"What's the point? Did you see him? He looks as deaf as he is blind. He must be at least 70," the girl in front of Elizabeta said. She was leaning onto the back of her seat, a coy smile on her lips as she watched the other girls attempt to fix flattened and wayward curls while every strand of her own blond hair was still perfectly in place. Her name was Vivianne and Elizabeta was still trying to decide whether or not she liked her.

"Considering the recent increase in tuition, you would think that the school would be able to hire someone decent," said Jacqueline, Vivianne's seatmate, a tall girl with long brown hair and bright blue eyes that were magnified by the overly large glasses she wore. She claimed they were the newest trend.

"Puh-lease. Everyone knows that at least half of the money the school makes goes towards things completely unrelated to it," said the girl sitting in the seat next to Elizabeta's. She had a sullen face and loosely curled fire-engine red hair. "Like those faculty parties and the new espresso machine in the front office."

"I thought the espresso machine was a donation," Jacqueline said. Adele, the redhead, rolled her eyes.

"Yeah right. I was in the office when they brought it in. I heard Madame's secretary say that they bought it with the money from the fall fundraiser."

"What were you doing in the office? And I thought that money was supposed to go towards roof renovations!" piped up Adele's seatmate. It took Elizabeta a few seconds to remember her name. Lynette. That was it. She had short blond hair and a sharp face. She also had the look of someone who never said everything they were thinking.

Vivianne tossed her glossy blond hair over her shoulder. "Don't be stupid. When it rains, the roof still leaks in some of the older classrooms."

"And we're supposedly a 'high-class prestigious academy'. What a joke," Jacqueline snorted.

"Is your school ranked very highly?" Elizabeta asked. She instantly regretted speaking up as the girls turned their attention back to her.

"You don't know?" Vivianne said sweetly condescending, making her feel like an uninformed country bumpkin. "We're ranked second in girls-only schools in Europe."

"That's amazing. Who's first?"

"Some tech school in Estonia." Vivianne wrinkled her button nose, somehow still managing to look pretty while doing so. "Probably full of geeks."

"Where did you go to school Elizabeta?" Jacqueline asked.

"Oh, you wouldn't know it. It's a small school in Hungary."

"Are you at Uni now?"

"Actually, I just graduated a few months ago."

"Congratulations," Adele said. "What did you study there?"

"Uh…Feminist Theory."

"Oh," Vivianne said, her mouth a perfectly round 'O'. "How…interesting."

"It is. It's…very interesting," Elizabeta said lamely.

It was amazing how a group of thirteen year old girls could be so intimidating.

"So are you going to go for your Masters or find a job?" Vivianne asked.

"Most likely find a job. Except I'm taking a short break at the moment." She had no intention of telling any of them, except Lili, about her trip. "I didn't want to jump right into the working world."

"My mother always says that the longer you put something off, the harder it becomes," Jacqueline said. Elizabeta tried to ignore the cold lump forming in her stomach.

"It's only for a few months. I think I'll be just fine," she said, trying to assure both herself and them. "I'm actually more concerned about finding a new apartment than a job."

"Do you live alone?" Lynette asked.

"No, I have a roommate but I don't know for how much longer. Depending on what he decides, he might have to move back home and I can't pay the rent alone. Nothing's been settled at the moment."

"'He?'" Vivianne asked slyly. "You live with a _guy_?" She said it as if it was something scandalous.

"Yes, he's my best friend. We've known each other for years."

"_Just_ your best friend?"

"What else would he be?"

The girls all exchanged looks before they burst into giggles. Elizabeta wondered what she had said that was so funny.

"What I want to know is who that guy was with you this morning at the school. The loud one with all the white hair?" Adele asked. "Your boyfriend?"

"God no! That was Gilbert. He's the one I was talking about; the roommate and best friend."

"He was kind of cute," Adele said. "In a rough sort of way. Does he dye his hair?"

"No, it's natural, believe it or not."

"Does he have, like, albinism or something?" Jacqueline asked.

"I'm not really sure. I've never met an albino. But honestly, his hair color is the least important thing about him."

"Have you ever liked him? You know _liked_ him?" Lynette asked, giggling softly.

Elizabeta laughed."Never. We're friends. That's it. Let's just say I'm not his type."

"What is his type?" Adele asked innocently.

Elizabeta decided that she wasn't cruel enough to break a young girl's heart so she said instead, "I'm not completely sure actually. I just know not me."

"So do you have a boyfriend?" Vivianne asked boldly.

Elizabeta tried not to look surprised by the question. "Not right now," she said quickly.

"No one handsome and intriguing in your life?"

"…no."

"No long-distance lover?"

"Nope."

"Not even the passing handsome stranger? You barely knew him but he stole your heart?" Elizabeta felt a shiver run down her back. Vivianne's green eyes seemed to bore into her mind, reading her every hidden secret and thought, some that she wouldn't even admit to herself.

"C-can't say that's happened to me," she said quietly.

Vivianne gave her a slow smile. "Do you see that girl up front? Sitting next to the teacher?" she said quietly.

"Yes."

"That's Anna-Marcheline. She's French-Algerian and thinks she's better than everyone else."

"Because she's French-Algerian?"

"Because she's 'in love'," Vivianne said, using air-quotes. "And not chick-flick 'in love' but _true love_. The type our parents supposedly felt for each other before the divorce and custody battle. It's become somewhat of a scandal because he goes to the other school—the one we're going camping with. They met only a year ago at one of our stupid joint fundraisers and Anna-Marcheline insists that it was love at first sight. Since then they've only seen each other twice, but she still says that she loves him."

Adele narrowed her eyes. "How do you know this?" she whispered.

"Our mothers are friends…well acquaintances. Apparently, Anna-Marcheline tried to sneak out a bunch of times to see him so her parents eventually had to install security guards. It's pathetic really."

Elizabeta frowned. "Why do you say that?" she asked.

"Because you can't love someone you barely know," Vivianne said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "My parents knew each other for ten years before they got married and they still split up. Anna-Marcheline is just being ridiculous."

"I think it's romantic," Lili said next to Elizabeta. It was the first time she had spoken since they had left the school. "Like a fairy tale."

"Yes, very romantic," Vivianne said dryly. "Just don't expect a happily ever after ending. I wonder if she'll try to sneak out to see him here. She probably will. Hopefully, whatever teacher or volunteer is staying in her cabin is a light sleeper."

"You're so cruel Viv," Jacqueline said. "I think you're just jealous."

"Jealous is the last thing I am," Vivianne said. "I almost pity her because she's just going to get her heartbroken. Seriously, Jaq, don't you ever think before you speak?" Jacqueline blushed and turned towards the window.

"So you don't think that it's possible to love someone that you barely know? You don't believe in love at first sight?" Elizabeta asked.

"Absolutely not," Vivianne said. "It's a recipe for disaster. He could be anything. A drug dealer, a thief—"

"A psychopathic murderer?" Elizabeta said.

Vivianne nodded. "Exactly."

"But…but what if he's a good person?" Elizabeta found herself saying. "He's made some mistakes…but still a genuinely good person?"

"Do you know someone like this?" Vivianne asked.

Elizabeta blushed and shook her head. She didn't know why she had said that. "N-no, but it's possible that the guy Anna-Marcheline says she loves is like this. I think people should always try to believe in the goodness of others."

"Some would call that naivety."

"Call it what you want. I would rather be naïve than shallow and judgmental," Elizabeta said more sharply than she intended. Vivianne's eyes widened slightly but then she smiled her cat smile.

"I see," she said. "I see."

"Attention students and volunteers!" All heads turned to the teacher who was standing at the front of the bus. "We will be arriving at the camp ground in ten minutes! Make sure you have all your belongings! Vivianne and Jacqueline, turn around and sit down at once!" Vivianne scowled at the teacher's retreating back. She glanced once more at Elizabeta and grinned before lowering herself down onto her seat. The other girls began packing up their playing cards, putting away their books and wrapping up the headphones of their MP3 players. Elizabeta was grateful that they were almost there. She didn't know how much longer she would have been able to put up with Vivianne. Although it seemed immature to dislike someone twelve years younger than herself, she didn't believe there was much of a chance that she and Vivianne would come to enjoy each other's company.

* * *

When they arrived at the campground, all the teachers and volunteers were given itinerary lists of what they would be doing for the next five days and a cabin number. They were then assigned a group of three girls who they would remain with for the rest of the week. These would also be the teams for all camp activities and events. Elizabeta was assigned cabin eight and the girls in her group were Lili—specially requested by Vash, of course—Anna-Marcheline and Adele. She was relieved that Vivianne had been assigned to another group. Cabin eight was not particularly impressive but it wasn't a complete mess either. When Elizabeta pushed open the rusted front door, she was hit by a cloud of dust. There were cobwebs in the corners and the paint on the walls was peeling but after a good sweeping and some airing out, it would be fairly livable. There were two bunk beds pushed up against the wall as well as two chairs and a small table. There was a single light bulb that hung from the ceiling but when Elizabeta flicked on the light switch, it flared to life for a few seconds before sputtering out.

"I'm sure we can get another one," she said.

"This place is a dump," Adele said. "I call bottom bunk!" She threw her bags onto the dusty mattress and then gave a small shriek as a mouse darted from beneath the bed and scurried out the open front door. "Oh God, that's disgusting! Do they really expect us to sleep in here?"

"This is actually very nice in comparison to the rooms we slept in when I went camping with my school. There were ten of us in a building this big, there were holes in the ceiling and the front door was missing. You guys are lucky."

"I can go find us some brooms," Lili offered.

"I'll go find some mouse traps," Adele said. "And another light bulb."

Once the two girls were gone, Elizabeta turned to Anna-Marcheline, not quite sure what to say. The girl hadn't spoken a single word since she had been assigned to Elizabeta's group. Seeing her now, it was easy to imagine that Vivianne had said those things about her on the bus because of simple jealously. The girl was very pretty. Her long black hair fell in waves around her heart shaped face and beneath her dark brows were a pair of large brown eyes. She was still staring out the door Lili and Adele had gone through, her expression unreadable, although Elizabeta detected a hint of agitation. Her hands curled and uncurled at her side and she tapped her foot softly against the wooden floor.

"Anna-Marcheline?" The girl looked up in surprise as if she just remembered that Elizabeta was there.

"I'm sorry," she said with a light French accent, "did you need me to do something Miss. Hédeváry?"

Elizabeta gave her her best smile. "No, actually I just wanted to properly introduce myself. I already know Lili and I met Adele on the bus. Please feel free to call me Elizabeta. I only just graduated from Uni in April. I'm hardly an adult so be as casual as you want."

"Oh, okay," was all Anna-Marcheline said in reply. Her eyes darted to the open door.

"We still have about ten minutes before we're supposed to meet up with everyone else and I would love to learn a little about you," Elizabeta said. Admittedly, her curiosity stemmed from more personal reasons than simply a way of being friendly.

"I'm sure Vivianne told you everything you need to know," Anna-Marcheline said shortly.

Elizabeta grimaced. "I'm beginning to think that perhaps Vivianne isn't the most…reliable source. I would rather hear your side of the story."

"Why? What does it matter to you?" Although her tone was even, when she met her eyes, Elizabeta was surprised at the anger she saw in them.

"Well…it's complicated," she said. Anna-Marcheline gave her a twisted smile.

"Really? Because everyone else thinks I'm a big joke. My parents even think I have a mental disorder. They tried to get me to go to a shrink! I love him! Is it that hard to believe?"

"No and I understand what you're going through."

"How? What could you possibly know about what I'm going through?" Anna-Marcheline's eyes had a glassy sheen to them and her chin was trembling slightly.

"Because…because—" Suddenly there came a knock at the door and they both spun around.

"Vash?" Elizabeta said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Vash glanced quickly between her and Anna-Marcheline before he answered, "I was looking for my sister. I wanted to check in with her."

"She's not here right now. She went to find some brooms so that we could clean this place up a little."

Vash frowned. "Oh, well in that case, I was also wondering if I could borrow your phone. My doesn't seem to be working."

Elizabeta pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and flipped it open. "Sorry," she said with a small smile, "I have absolutely no signal at all."

"Damn it," Vash said. Quickly, he remembered that they weren't alone and glanced over at Anna-Marcheline.

"Oh, don't mind me," she said. "I've heard much worse." She grabbed a small purse from her bag. "I'll be by the lake," she said before racing out the door.

"Okay!" Elizabeta called after her. "But don't forget that we have to meet up at the main building in ten minutes!" She sighed and turned back to Vash. "I'm not used to dealing with children over the age of ten."

"They're all the same to me. Loud and love to spend money."

"I can't really argue with you there. So what did you need my phone for? Business? Because if it's important I remember seeing pay phones about 30 minutes back down the main road."

"No, actually I wanted to check up on Gilbert and make sure he hasn't done anything stupid yet." Despite his pleas to accompany them, Gilbert had been left back in Zurich to housesit. "As annoying as he would be if he was here, I hate leaving him alone at my house. He's probably leaving dirty clothes everywhere or putting his feet on the table or—" Vash cringed "—touching things that cost money. I should have just sent him to Berlin."

"He's probably asleep. He likes to nap at this time. Honestly, I don't think you have to worry about Gilbert. You seemed to lay down the rule pretty well for him." She remembered that there had been plenty of threats involved. "I'm sure he's on his best behavior."

"You have a lot of faith in him."

Elizabeta shrugged. "I try to. Well, most of the time. So are you looking forward to all the exciting camp activities?"

Vash crossed his arms. "Absolutely not. The only reason I'm here is for my sister. I hate camping, especially with strangers. You have no idea what people are capable of. I can't believe they wouldn't even let me have a private cabin."

Elizabeta giggled. "That's adorable really," she said.

"What is?"

"That you would give up your own personal comforts for your sister. That's really sweet of you."

Vash blushed. "W-well, it's my duty as her old brother to look out for her."

Elizabeta smiled. "You actually remind me of someone…" She stopped when she saw something bright appear out of the corner of her eye. She looked past Vash to see Adele, followed by Lili, coming back towards the cabin, each with a broom slung over her shoulder.

"We were lucky," Adele said. "We got the last brooms. Oh and a replacement light bulb too."

"What about the mouse traps?" Elizabeta asked.

Adele shook her head. "Apparently mouse traps are not only inhumane, but they also 'take away from the outdoor experience'. I swear, if I get typhus my parents are going to sue."

Elizabeta laughed. "I think that's the least of your worries."

"Is there something you needed brother?" Lili asked.

"I just came to ask Elizabeta a favor. I actually have to head back now so my team isn't late to the meeting. Take care not to go off alone," Vash said.

"I will. Thank you," Lili said.

"We'll see you in a few minutes," Elizabeta said.

"I would hate to have my brother here," Adele said when Vash was gone. "How can you stand it? I would be going cuh-razy."

Lili smiled. "My brother works a lot and I rarely get to see him even during summer breaks. I enjoy any time I can spend with him."

Adele smirked. "You're too good Lili. Stop it. You're making the rest of us look bad. By the way, where's Lover girl?"

Elizabeta frowned. "You mean Anna-Marcheline? Because that's her name. I won't stand for you girls teasing her."

Adele pouted and twirled a strand of red hair around her finger. "Fineee. So where is she?"

"By the lake. I should probably go get her now. The meeting starts soon."

Adele snickered. "I wonder what the chances are that she's alone by the lake." Elizabeta gave her a look. "Well there are a lot of people wandering around…"

"You two can start sweeping if you want," Elizabeta said as she started heading in the direction of the lake. "I'll be back soon."

* * *

The first person whom Elizabeta noticed when she walked into the building designated as the meeting hall was Vivianne, who was leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the room whispering something to Jacqueline. She seemed to sense Elizabeta as soon as she stepped into the room and looked up, her green eyes bright. When she found her, she gave her a mischievous smile and waved. Elizabeta forced a smile and waved back before going to find a seat as far away as possible from the other girl. She found Vash sitting rigidly among the rest of the teachers and volunteers, glaring at anyone who walked past, and was glad to find an empty seat beside him.

A tall, well built man with short shorn hair walked to the front of the room and waited patiently for the talking to die down. Elizabeta took the time to look around and noticed that the room had been divided. All the boys were on one side and the girls on the other. Both groups were glancing furtively at the other and she knew that there was nothing she or any of the teachers and volunteers could do to keep them from eventually mixing. She looked for Anna-Marcheline and found her staring intently across the room. Elizabeta followed her gaze and saw that she was looking at a boy with dark blond hair who didn't seem to notice that she was looking at him. Just then, the teacher from the bus strode over to Anna-Marcheline and tapped her on the shoulder. She gestured that she should follow her and Anna-Marcheline only glared in response before slowing getting to her feet. She followed the teacher out one of the side doors and when they were gone both sides of the room burst into frantic whispers.

"Okay guys, time to quiet down," the man at the front of the room said, apparently tired of waiting. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can get out here and start enjoying yourselves. My name is Fredrich and I'm your camp director. First thing's first: the rules." A collective groan rang out through the room and Fredrich smiled. "Yes, I know. No one likes rules, but without them the world would be more chaotic than it already is. So, the most important rule, although I'm sure you've already been informed of this by your team leaders but in case you didn't, is that boys are girls are strictly prohibited from being in each other's company outside of camp events and activities. Anyone caught breaking this rule will be sent home immediately. Second: after eight o'clock, the lake is off limits. No swimming or canoeing is allowed. By nine o'clock, all campers are required to be back in their cabins. Anyone caught outside after nine without their team leader may be asked to leave the camp. The woods around this area are also off limits. To both campers _and_ teachers." A few students snickered at this. "If you're caught outside the camp boundaries, you will be asked to leave the camp. Those are the most important rules. If everyone follows them then this should be an exciting week. Now, your team leaders have all been given itinerary lists containing your daily activities and after I'm done here you're all free to go but, before you do, there's something important you should know. Being at camp is not just about having fun. It's also about reflection. While you're here I want all of you to take some time to do some personal reflection. Learn something new about yourself, try something you've never done before. Take chances! Don't be afraid to be the person you want to be. I believe you will all be successful in whatever you put your mind to. Now, enough of me talking. Go have some fun."

Elizabeta stood up and made her way through the crowd towards her team, still thinking about the camp director's words. She vaguely remembered hearing something similar at the camp she had gone to when she was younger. She assumed that the general message was universally the same although the last words were what echoed the loudest in her mind. _"I believe you will all be successful in whatever you put your mind to."_ She had been asked if she thought she would be successful on her trip and she had never had a clear answer. In truth, she didn't know. What was the point of spending time and money on a trip around the world looking for love if she didn't even think that she could find it? Perhaps it was time to start believing in herself.

"So what are we doing first?" Adele asked.

Elizabeta pulled out the list and grinned widely. "Archery." Her favorite.

"What a coincidence," Elizabeta turned around to see Vivianne. Behind her stood Lynette and Jacqueline, both looking equally smug. A mousy woman, who she assumed was their team leader, stood beside them, her nose still buried in the itinerary list. "That's what my team is doing as well. This should be fun."

"Yes, riveting," Elizabeta said dryly. "We need to find our last teammate first."

"I'm here," came a sullen voice. Anna-Marcheline rejoined the group, visibly angrier than from before.

"Hello, Anna-Marcheline. How are you?" Vivianne asked.

"Fuck off," Anna-Marcheline snapped.

Lynette and Jacqueline gasped. Vivianne only smiled and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"You don't have to be rude," she said. "Our teams are doing archery together. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"Only if you're willing to stand in front of the target for me," Anna-Marcheline said.

"I sincerely doubt that you could even hit me."

"We can try it."

"I think we should get going," Elizabeta said, worried that things were getting out of hand. "Adele, Lili, Anna-Marcheline, let's go."

"See you at the archery field," Vivianne called.

Vash caught Elizabeta on her way out the door.

"Where are you heading first?" he asked.

"Archery."

"Perfect, us too."

Elizabeta felt instantly relieved and hoped that another team present would work to ease some of the tension. When they arrived at the archery fields, Vivianne's team was already there. The girls as tittered and whispered behind their hands as the boys approached. Adele kept flipping her hair and batting her eyelashes. The only girls seemingly unaffected by the male presence were Lili, Anna-Marcheline and Vivianne. The latter two were fixated on each other, Vivianne smirking and Anna-Marcheline glaring. Elizabeta tuned out while one of the camp instructors explained the rules of archery and the proper methods for holding and shooting the bow and arrow. She already knew all of that. Afterwards, the teams were split in two lines. One of the boys had forgotten his glasses back in his cabin and, for the safety of everyone else, was asked to sit out so in the end each line had four people. Two at a time, one person from each line, they stepped forward to the white line and fired their shots. Points were awarded to each side depending on how close to the target each person got. The first few shots flew either too far or two short. By some unlucky coincidence, Vivianne and Anna-Marcheline came forward at the same time. Vivianne's arrow hit just outside the target. Anna-Marcheline got a perfect bulls-eye.

"How lucky," Vivianne said, although her smile was gone.

"What was that you were saying about me not being able to hit you? We can still try it," Anna-Marcheline said.

"Come on girls," the instructor said. "Back of the line."

Elizabeta was surprised when Lili stepped forward and easily hit the center of the target. She glanced over at Vash who looked equally surprised.

"I wonder where she learned to shoot like that," he said.

Elizabeta only smiled. "Yes, I wonder."

They continued in this manner for the next hour. Anna-Marcheline and Lili hit the center each time. And, after her first miss, Vivianne did as well. After her arrow flew into the same tree twice, Adele complained that she was no good at archery and asked to sit out. She was soon followed by Jacqueline and Lynette who both were too busy looking at the boys and not their targets. Lili was forced to sit out when her bow string snapped and the remaining two boys said that they were bored and that paintball was more interesting. Finally, only Anna-Marcheline and Vivianne were left. The score was 18 to 19, with Anna-Marcheline leading.

"Whoever reaches 20 first will be the winner," the instructor said.

Anna-Marcheline stepped up to the line and pulled her arm back. But before she could fire, Vivianne said softly, "Oh, hello Tomas." Anna-Marcheline faltered and her arrow flew completely off target.

"Oops, I guess I was mistaken," Vivianne said. Anna-Marcheline turned on her, her dark eyes flashing angrily.

"That wasn't fair! I should get another chance!" she protested.

The instructor shook his head. "Sorry, but that was you last one. It's Vivianne's turn."

Vivianne stepped forward and fired her shot. It hit the center almost gracefully. Behind her Lynette and Jacqueline cheered.

"It seems we win," Vivianne said.

"You cheated," Anna-Marcheline growled, throwing her bow to the ground.

"Oh, don't be a sore loser. It's your own fault for being so easily distracted."

"Why you—"

"How about we let the team leaders try now?" the instructor said. Elizabeta was instantly excited. She had been afraid that she wouldn't be given a chance.

"I would rather not," Vivianne's team leader sniffed.

"What do you say Vash?" Elizabeta asked picking up Anna-Marcheline's discarded bow.

Vash shrugged. "Why not?" Vivianne handed him her bow with a smile and went to join the other students.

"How about best two out of three?" the instructor said.

"Fine by me," Elizabeta said. "Get ready to lose, Vash."

"Not likely," he said.

They both fired at the same time, both arrows hitting the target cleanly. This happened again the second and third time.

"You're good," Vash said. "I didn't expect that."

Elizabeta grinned. "Let's just say that this is my specialty."

"What now?" Adele asked.

"How about we blindfold them?" Vivianne suggested.

"That sounds dangerous," Lynette said.

"No, it will be fun," Vivianne said smiling. "Up the competition a little. You should even place bets."

"I think you're enjoying this too much, Viv," Jacqueline said.

"I'm not so sure about this," Vash said frowning.

"He's right," the instructor said. "That could be dangerous."

"Oh you're all so dull," Vivianne huffed. "What was is that muscle freak said?"

"Fredrich?" Lili offered.

"Yeah, whatever. He said we should try something we've never tried before. Take chances! Right Elizabeta?"

Elizabeta found herself the center of attention and disliked Vivianne even more for putting her on the spot. However, she couldn't deny her competitive spirit.

"I...agree with Vivianne. It sounds fun," she said. "And if everyone moves back a little bit, it will be safer."

"Well, in that case, everyone scoot back. Does anyone have a blindfold?" the instructor said.

"You can use my headscarf," Vivianne said as she pulled the bright pink accessory from her hair. She handed it to Elizabeta with a wide smile. "Good luck," she said.

One of the boy had a bandana tied around his arm and removed it and gave it to Vash who glanced at it with a look of mild disgust before putting it on.

"So what do you want to wager?" Vash asked. "No money."

"How about a favor?" Elizabeta said.

"What sort of favor?"

"Any favor that doesn't involve money."

"Can you be a little more specific?" Vash grumbled.

"No. If I win, you owe me. If you win, I owe you. Whoever wins will deal with the specifics."

"This is stupid…fine."

"Okay, on my mark," the instructor said. "Ready, set, go!"

Elizabeta waited until Vash had fired and she heard the sound of the arrow hitting the target before she went. However, at the last second, instead of aiming at her target, she turned towards his and fired. She heard the sound of splintering wood and gasps from the crowd. She took off her blindfold and saw in amazement that she had done the near impossible. Her arrow had gone right through Vash's. Robin Hood would have been proud. When Vash took off his blindfold and saw what she had done, his jaw dropped.

"No…way," the instructor said. "Even with your eyes open that's a one in a million chance. How did you do that?"

"I…I have no idea," Elizabeta said. She grinned. "But I guess this means I win."

Vash was still gaping at the two, now combined, arrows. From the crowd came the sound of clapping and Elizabeta turned to see that it was Vivianne.

"Congratulations," she said with a smile. "I knew you could do it."

* * *

"I'm soooo tired," Adele groaned. "Can I switch with Lili?"

"Already? I can still see the shore from here." Elizabeta said.

"This thing is too hard to steer and this oar is giving me calluses."

"I don't mind switching," Lili said. She and Anna-Marcheline were seated in the middle of the large canoe. In the front sat Adele who had been first to claim the spot and had refused to take any other. Elizabeta was managing the back with a little difficulty. The rest of the teams had already gone farther ahead. Her team had had some trouble setting out. First they had picked a canoe with a hole in the bottom and had only been stopped from using it by one of the other team leaders. Then came the fight over who would be where. When they had finally gotten onto the water they had gotten stuck between two trees. They had struggled for twenty minutes before they had finally been able to get free. Now they were floating aimlessly in open water.

"Do you want to switch Anna-Marcheline?" Elizabeta asked.

"I don't care," she said but she stood up slowly and inched towards Elizabeta's seat.

"Thank goodness," Adele said, standing up as well before Lili could stop her. The whole canoe suddenly lurched and she screamed as she fell backwards. Lili reached out to grab her but wasn't fast enough. Adele tumbled over the edge and fell into the water with a large splash. Everyone on the canoe turned their faces away to avoid the spray. Adele resurfaced seconds later, spitting water and screaming.

"I hate this! I really fucking hate this!" she screamed, slapping the water furiously. "Get me out of here! I think something touched my leg! Are there snakes in here? Help me now!"

"Calm down," Anna-Marcheline said as she leaned over to grab one of her hands. Elizabeta took the other. "It's probably just seaweed."

"I hate camping!" Adele whined as she was pulled back into the canoe. "I sucked at the archery, I nearly died on that stupid hike yesterday and now this! I'm covered in mosquito bites and I can't sleep at night because of damn owls! I want to go home!"

"You have two days left," Elizabeta said. "I think you can survive until then." Personally, she was having a good time. For the first time in weeks her mind was at ease. On the hiking trail the day before she had been tempted to keep walking until she lost herself completely. She had forgotten how relaxing nature could be and it was nice to be away from the big cities and all their noise for once. She did miss Gilbert and their near constant banter a little. It had been a long time since they had been apart for more than three days. But, in truth, she was probably better off without him here. It would have been more difficult to detach from all her worries if he had been around. She hoped that he wasn't too bored and that he was behaving himself. Or at least not getting into too much trouble.

"Okay, how about we head back now?" she said.

"Yes!" Adele cheered, punching the air.

"Are we allowed to?" Lili asked.

"What's the worst they could do to us?" Elizabeta said recklessly. "Besides, Adele needs to change her clothes."

"Yes, please please _puh-lease_ let's go back now. I'm about to freeze to death," Adele moaned.

"I find that hard to believe with the sun shining like it is," Anna-Marcheline said.

"Well I'm still cold so start paddling woman."

"Do you two mind going back early?" Elizabeta asked.

Lili shook her head and Anna-Marcheline shrugged.

"Whatever," Anna-Marcheline said, lifting up her oar.

The trip back was much smoother and they made it without an incident. Adele, with Lili in tow, ran back to the cabin to change and Elizabeta and Anna-Marcheline walked towards the main building where the other teams were supposed to meet after they returned from the lake.

"Hey Elizabeta," Anna-Marcheline said quietly, " remember…remember the first day we got here and you were saying how you understood what I was going through? What did you mean by that?"

Elizabeta blushed as she recalled the conversation. What had she been about to say anyway? "Why are you asking now?"

"Because if you've been through something similar then I would know that I'm not as crazy and stupid as everyone says I am," Anna-Marcheline said. She suddenly stopped walking and Elizabeta stopped as well. Anna-Marcheline was staring at the ground, her hands jammed in the pockets of her shorts. A few strands of black hair had escaped her ponytail and she brushed them away angrily. Three days of hot sun had turned her already dark skin an even darker shade that made the rest of them, as tan as they all were, look almost pale. She finally looked up and Elizabeta was again struck by how pretty she was. If she wasn't so young she could even be described as beautiful. She couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of jealousy. Maybe her journey would be a lot easier if she looked like that…

"I'm tired of everyone treating me like a freak," Anna-Marcheline said.

"By 'everyone' I think you mean Vivianne," Elizabeta said.

"No! It's not just her! All the girls think I'm some slut and all the teachers think I'm going to run off at any moment with Tomas. I can't even talk to him! And when I tried to get his attention yesterday and the day before he didn't even look at me! What if he thinks I'm weird too? What if he doesn't want anything to do with me anymore? Is it even worth it to still keep having these feelings for him? Were we ever even in love? Elizabeta, tell me, do you believe in love at first sight?"

"I…I don't know," Elizabeta said, feeling very put on the spot.

"But you said you understood what I was going through!" Anna-Marcheline was on the verge of tears. "Please tell me!"

"I…I met someone who I thought I was in love with or at least falling in love with. When I first saw him everything just seemed…clearer…and brighter and more beautiful." Elizabeta swallowed heavily. "But in the end he turned out to be not who I thought he was."

Anna-Marcheline visibly deflated. "So I'm doomed?"

"No! Of course not! I just had a bad experience. Not everyone is like that. Like this other guy I know. We weren't together for very long but I'm beginning to think that doesn't matter because in that short period of time I got to know him better than people I've known for years. He tries to pretend he doesn't care about the people around him but he's such a bad liar. I think he cares more than he knows he does. He's a good person, even if he doesn't believe it and…even when I messed up, he never blamed me. He saved me in more ways than one and I will be forever grateful. I just…I just wish that I could see him again. He's always on my mind these days and sometimes I wish I could stop thinking about him but then I don't want to because that would make me…unhappy." The words just tumbled out of Elizabeta's mouth. She had no idea where they had come from but it all sounded so…right. She noticed that Anna-Marcheline was giving her a funny look. "What?" she asked.

"This guy…are you sure you're not in love with_ him_?"

Elizabeta felt her face burn up. "W-what? N-no! T-that, that…is crazy! L-like so…just crazy! He was just a friend…to think that I…no! I-I don't even know what I was saying! Just ignore me. I'm sorry, I'm an idiot!" She was surprised when Anna-Marcheline suddenly burst out laughing.

"Elizabeta you should see your face! You're redder than a tomato! Now I know you're lying! You really like him!"

"W-what? N-no, I'm perfectly serious! I can't be in love with him! I would know if I was…right?"

Anna-Marcheline only shrugged but she was still grinning. "Maybe love isn't something bright and fancy. Who needs that glittery shit anyway? Maybe…maybe it's just someone you can't stop thinking about? I'm always thinking about Tomas and I know that I'm happy when I am. Thanks Elizabeta. I feel better now. We can keep walking."

"I-I'm glad I could help." Elizabeta said but her mind was still racing. To think that she could be in love with…no. It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. The heat was getting to her. She resolved to banish the thought forever from her mind. However, an hour later, she was still lost in a haze and for the first time since she had arrived at the camp wished she had her phone so that she could call Gilbert. Or her mother. Either one of them would know how to handle the situation better than she was.

"Crazy…just…crazy," she said quietly to herself. The other teams had returned from the lake and were lounging around the room. Despite the rules, boys were talking to girls and none of the teachers or volunteers seemed to care.

"Hey," came a gruff voice. Elizabeta looked up to see Vash standing above her.

"Hi," she said weakly.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked, pointing to the spot on the bench next to her.

"No, please sit. How was canoeing?"

"Not terrible," Vash said shortly. "How were things with you? Was Lili okay?"

"She was great actually. She's been great this whole time."

"How are the other girls treating her? They're not teasing her, are they?"

"No, they all get on fine." Lili seemed to be universally like among the girls in her class. There was no single person that she was especially close with but she was always included in conversations or whatever small games the other girls were playing during their free time. Even Vivianne treated her well. "Honestly, you didn't really need me. You're sister is a whole lot tougher than you know."

"She always seems so frail to me," Vash murmured. "When she was younger she was often sick and when our parents died I was the one who took care of her, even when we moved in with our Grandfather…"

"Well she's not a little girl anymore and she's not looking for someone to fuss over her. She's looking for a big brother so stop acting like her nanny!"

"I'm just trying to keep her safe…"

"There's a fine line between protective and smothering and you're flirting with it."

Vash frowned. "How so?"

"Checking on her every hour, installing security cameras around the cabin, insisting that she get a whole new harness when we were doing the ropes course…"

"There were frays on the straps…"

"You nearly scared that poor boy to death this morning."

"Did you see how he was looking at her?"

"He was asking if we had an extra life jacket."

"Well that's not what it looked like."

"Honestly Vash, it's sweet that you care so much but would it kill you to give her a little space?"

"But…but how?"

"Weh-ell, there's a lovely fire pit near out cabin. How about you bring your boys and I bring my girls and we roast marshmallows and tell ghost stories? You know, classic camp fun?"

"But boys and girls aren't allowed to mix unless it's during an activity or event."

"Roasting marshmallows is more or less an official camp activity and of course we will be there to supervise but _only_ supervise. No interfering. Think you can do that? Please?"

Vash grimaced. "I could try…" he said.

"Yay!" Elizabeta said happily. "This will be great, I promise. Come by around seven, okay? Anyway, I think I'm going to head back to the cabin." The students would be spending the rest of the day doing 'reflection' activities with Fredrich, giving the teachers and volunteers the afternoon off. Elizabeta thought it was the perfect opportunity for a nap.

"Sure, see you at seven," Vash muttered.

Elizabeta waved goodbye to Adele and Lili. Anna-Marcheline had been forced to sit by one of the teachers but waved from her spot. Elizabeta smiled and gave her two thumbs up.

When Elizabeta got back to the cabin, she was surprised to see smoke coming from one of the windows. Quickly, she ran inside, afraid of a fire, but instead found Vivianne lying on her bed smoking a cigarette.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Elizabeta asked, too shocked to watch her language.

"Hiding," Vivianne said. She blew a cloud of smoke into the air.

"You're supposed to be at the main building and I'm more than certain it's against the rules for you to be smoking."

"I don't care about either of those."

"Okay, you need to leave. Now."

Vivianne sat up in her bed. "I get the feeling that you don't like me Elizabeta," she said.

"You're not making it very hard."

"Well that hurts because I like you."

This was another surprise. "I never would have guessed that."

"We are not so different Elizabeta."

"You're a child, I'm an adult. We are very different."

Vivianne made a dismissing gesture with her hand. "Age is meaningless. It's obvious that we both want the same thing."

Elizabeta crossed her arms. "And what is that?"

Vivianne grinned. "Success."

Elizabeta kept her face and tone even. "That is very vague."

"I wasn't trying to be specific and I don't have to be. We're both working towards something and what we want the most is to be successful."

"Everyone wants to be successful. Who wants to fail?"

"Oh Elizabeta, you keep avoiding the most important points. It's not about whether or not you want to succeed but how much you want to. We both hate to lose. I first noticed it on the bus and again during the archery game. When we want something we go for it and use whatever tactics we can."

"I'm not ruthless and I don't cheat."

Vivianne shrugged. "We all have different viewpoints. I see it as strategy. Not cheating. The point is that you have a goal and I have a goal and we're both going to do whatever we can to achieve it."

"And what is your goal?"

Vivianne smiled slowly. "My secret. As is yours." Suddenly she was serious. "Don't be afraid to go for what you want Elizabeta. And don't you dare ever give up." She stood up from the bed and walked past Elizabeta to the door. "Say what you want but you can't deny that we're not so different. See ya." She strode out the front door, leaving Elizabeta completely baffled as to what had just happened.

* * *

Unfortunately, the good weather finally ended and it rained that evening, spoiling Elizabeta's campfire plans. Adele and Anna-Marcheline decided that they didn't want to stay cramped in the cabin forever and braved the rain and winds to go to the main building where an impromptu mixer was being held. The teachers and Fredrich had finally realized that it was useless to try to keep the boys and girls apart. At least that way they would all be there to make sure everyone was on their best behavior.

Vash had finally caved in and gone with a few of the other volunteers in a small car to find the pay phones. He told her that he had had a dream that Gilbert burnt down his house and wouldn't rest until he found out what he was up to. Lili said that she didn't feel like attending the mixer without him and because Elizabeta didn't want to leave her alone in the cabin, decided to forgo the event as well. Elizabeta took this time to finally tell her about her trip, leaving out of course Alessandro and his plot to kill her and Lovino. Lili looked at her with admiration and said that she would one day like to do something similar and hoped her brother would let her.

"I know you love your brother Lili, but you need to let him know that you're not a kid anymore."

"I don't want to hurt his feelings. He can be very sensitive."

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he'll understand. Trust me."

Adele and Anna-Marcheline returned to the cabin a few minutes after nine—the curfew was still very much in effect—with stories and gossip. Adele vividly described every boy she had talked to and as well as the details of their conversations. One boy she seemed to like more than the others because she kept reviewing their meeting and even asked if the others thought she had said the right things and what should she say next time she saw him? Even Anna-Marcheline looked a little happier. And although they weren't aware of it, when they all went to bed that night, they all had one person on their minds.

The rain continued throughout the night to the next morning and all activities for the day were cancelled. After Adele complained for what seemed like the 100th time that she was bored, Anna-Marcheline finally snapped.

"Then maybe you should go dunk your head in the lake and do all of us a favor!" she yelled.

"And what crawled up your butt? You keep looking out the window like some depressed puppy. Sorry but I don't think Tomas is going to come see you in this weather!"

"You shut your mouth!"

"Make me!"

"Both of you stop it now!" Elizabeta yelled in her angry babysitter voice. Being cooped up inside was giving her a headache and a fight was the last thing she needed. "Apologize. Now."

Adele sulked. "But—"

"Now."

"Sorry," Adele muttered.

"Sorry," Anna-Marcheline said.

"Good. I know that none of us want to be inside now but there really isn't anything we can do—" Suddenly there was a knock at the door. "—about it."

Anna-Marcheline was on her feet in seconds and raced towards the door. She flung it open to reveal Vivianne smiling widely beneath a large pink umbrella.

"Hello, hello," she said. "Lovely weather we're having, right?"

"What do want?" Anna-Marcheline snapped.

"We're watching movies in our cabin and were wondering if you would like to join us."

"I don't think—" Anna-Marcheline started to say.

"What movies?" Adele said, leaping up from her bed. "And how are you playing them?"

"American classics. We have _Breakfast at Tiffany's_, _The Parents Trap_—not the one with Lohan—and _Gone With the Wind_. Jacqueline has a battery operated portable DVD player. So are you interested? There will be boys there too."

"Hell yeah!" Adele said. "I love Clark Gable. Please can we go Elizabeta?"

"You're invited too Elizabeta," Vivianne said.

"I'm okay here. Will your team leader be there to supervise?"

"Of course."

"Then it's fine by me. You girls can go. Have fun."

"I'm staying here," Anna-Marcheline said firmly.

"Don't be anti-social Anna-Marcheline," Vivianne said. "We'll have a great time."

"Sorry, but with you there I think that's impossible."

Vivianne shrugged. "Suit yourself. Lili, dear, will you be joining us?"

"Um, yes. You don't think my brother will mind, do you Elizabeta?" Lili asked.

"If he stops by I'll let him know where you are and I shall strongly advise him not to check on you." And by strongly advise, she meant physically prevent him if she had to.

"Thank you. We'll see you later."

Elizabeta waved them out and then turned to Anna-Marcheline.

"I'm sure it wouldn't have been that bad," she said.

"I don't trust Vivianne. Besides, I like being here."

"I'm flattered that you would rather have me as company and I understand how you feel."

Anna-Marcheline crawled back into bed. "I'm going to take a nap, okay?"

"Sweet dreams," Elizabeta said before turning back to the book she had borrowed from Adele. It was the classic teenage girl romance story, except this time with sparkly vampires. It was filled with more clichés than she could count and the author's writing style was so boring that she kept forgetting what she had read and had to go back and re-read certain sections. But she hadn't borrowed it because she thought she would like it. She had borrowed it to keep her mind off her and Anna-Marcheline's conversation the day before. Her cheeks still burned when she thought of it so she was trying very hard not to. Unfortunately, the book and it's useless 'heroine' was just making her sleepy. She yawned as she bookmarked her page and then set the book down on the floor. Then curled up in her blankets and fell asleep. She didn't know how long she slept, but she woke up when she thought she heard a door slam. When she looked out the window it was visibly nighttime and the rain had finally stopped. Her phone had died the night before so she had no idea what time it was. She glanced over at the other bunk and saw that Anna-Marcheline's bed was empty. Elizabeta assumed that she had finally given in and went to watch movies with the other girls. She was just climbing out of bed when the door open and Lili and Adele rushed inside.

"Hey girls, how was the movie?"

"Ah-mazing, except there was no food so now I'm starving." Adele said. "But seriously, Clark never gets old." She assumed a dramatic pose. "_Rhett, Rhett... Rhett, if you go, where shall I go? What shall I do?_"

Elizabeta shook her head with a dramatic air. "_Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn_." All three of them burst out laughing. "How were the boys?"

Adele shrugged, but she was grinning. "Okay, but not much to look at."

"Still thinking about the one from yesterday?"

"Mayyyybe."

"Hopefully you get to see him tomorrow before we leave. You should though since the bus won't be here until around six in the evening. Is Anna-Marcheline still at the cabin?"

Lili gave her confused look. "Anna-Marcheline wasn't with us. I thought she was here."

Elizabeta felt a cold shiver run down her back. "She's not here."

"Then where is she?" Adele said, her eyes wide and fearful.

"I don't know but I'm going to find her. You two stay here." Elizabeta grabbed a light jacket from her bag. "I'll be back soon." She rushed out the door and into the night. She didn't know what made her go towards the woods but she vaguely remembered that earlier, Anna-Marcheline had been looking in that direction through the window. She just hoped that she found her before anyone or anything else. She hadn't been near the woods the whole time she had spent at the camp except for the day they went hiking but she only hesitated a second before plunging into the copse of trees. The ground was soft and the leaves were still covered in water from the rain so she was wet and muddy to her ankles after only a few paces as she pushed through the dense foliage. She squinted up ahead and saw a flash of white weaving through the trees. She picked up her pace.

"Anna-Marcheline!" she hissed. The girl faltered for a second but kept running. But Elizabeta's legs were longer and she caught up easily, grabbing Anna-Marcheline's arm.

"Let me go Elizabeta! Let me go!" she yelled as she twisted and tried to pull away.

"No! Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to see him and there's nothing you or anyone else can do to stop me!"

"See who?"

"Tomas. We arraigned it yesterday. I need to see him! He's waiting for me!"

"I don't care if the President of the European Council is waiting for you! If you get caught out here you'll be sent home! What will your parents say?"

"I don't care! If I don't see him tonight I might not get a chance to see him ever again!" Anna-Marcheline had finally stopped thrashing and Elizabeta loosened her grip slightly.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"His family is moving to Moscow when he gets back from camp. He only told me yesterday. That's why he's been avoiding me. He didn't know how to tell me. This could be our last chance to see each other and really talk. Please Elizabeta, you have to let me go."

Elizabeta said nothing. She had never been in a situation like this before. If she let her go then they could both end up in serious trouble. But could she ever forgive herself if she made her turn back?

"That guy you were talking about yesterday," Anna-Marcheline said, "the one you're always thinking about, if you could have one more chance to see him wouldn't you do anything to? Wouldn't you?"

Elizabeta let her go. "I'll wait here. You have ten minutes," she said.

"Thank you so much, Elizabeta. Thank you!" Anna-Marcheline ran off into the woods, leaving Elizabeta staring into the darkness. She found a medium-sized rock and sat down. It didn't matter how much she wanted to see Lovino because she had no clue where he was. He probably wasn't even in Sicily anymore. When she had had a chance to turn back she had let it slip through her fingers. She covered her face with her hands. Anna-Marcheline was braver than she was.

.

.

.

Some time later, Elizabeta heard the sound of crunching leaves and looked up to see Anna-Marcheline coming back. Her face was streaked with tears but she gave Elizabeta a small smile.

"Are you okay?" Elizabeta asked.

Anna-Marcheline shook her head. "No, but I will be eventually. Thank you."

"It was no problem." They both froze as they heard the sound of voices in the woods. A beam of light shone faintly in the distance.

"That's not Tomas," Anna-Marcheline said quietly.

"Run," Elizabeta said. "Judging by the direction they're coming if you go through those trees over there I think you'll be able to sneak past them."

"And you?"

"I'll be fine. Now run!"

Anna-Marcheline took off into the woods. Elizabeta sprinted in the other direction towards the lake. She could hear the sound of footsteps behind her but didn't look back. She burst out of the woods at the edge of the lake and collided into Vash, nearly knocking him over.

"Wha-what are you doing here?" she gasped.

"Looking for you! Lili said you came out here. Did you find the girl?"

Elizabeta nodded. "Yeah and I think she'll be okay. But we need to get out of here now. I think the others are right behind us. They can't catch us here."

"Back to the cabins?"

"No, the lake."

"Are you insane? Haven't you broken enough rules tonight as it is?"

Elizabeta grinned. "I'm the type of girl that likes to live on the wild side. Besides, you still owe me a favor. Consider this me cashing it in. Now let's go. The canoes are down there."

"This is why I hate camping," Vash grumbled when they reached the empty canoes.

"Less talking, more pushing," Elizabeta said. When they were far enough into the water, they climbed in.

"Do you have anywhere specific you want to go?" Vash asked.

"Just stay off to the side so they don't see us. Near the tress."

It was the same group of trees that Adele had paddled into the day earlier. They steered the canoe around the large trunks so that they were hidden by the drooping leaves. Elizabeta glanced back towards the shore and was glad to see that they hadn't been seen or followed.

"I think we're good," she said.

"Can we go back now?"

"No. Let's wait a few minutes. Besides, it's so nice out. There's even a full moon. Isn't it pretty?"

"Wonderful," Vash said wryly.

They sat in silence in the canoe, the only sound the water lapping against the edges and owls hooting in the distance.

"Thanks, by the way, for coming to look for me," Elizabeta said.

"Lili was worried about you."

"Oh…"

"And…I couldn't let you get caught. We still have one day here. Who would have looked after my sister?"

Elizabeta smiled. "Thanks…again."

"But it was still extremely stupid of you to just run off like that."

"I couldn't let anyone else find her before I did."

"That girl should face some sort of punishment for breaking the rules like that."

"I think she's suffered enough."

"I won't bother asking what she was even doing in the woods. It's none of my business and the less I know the better."

"I think I'm the worst team leader ever," Elizabeta admitted. "I left two of my girls, one being your own sister, alone in the cabin and when I caught the third I let her go. Who does that?"

"You're not the worst," Vash mumbled. "Lili really likes you and…I'm glad you're here."

Elizabeta looked at him with hopeful eyes. "You don't regret asking me to come here?"

In the light of the moon she saw him blush and look away. "No…I think you were the best choice I could have made," he said quietly.

"That means a lot to me,really. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Vash said.

Elizabeta opened her mouth to say something but then she felt the strangest sensation. "My ankles are wet," she said. She glanced down and screamed, "Holy shit, we're sinking! We got the canoe with the hole in it! Damn it!"

"You can't be serious. Fuck! Head back towards the shore!"

They paddled as fast they could but they were still about 100 meters from the shore when the canoe sank.

"This is why I didn't want to come out here," Vash growled as they treaded water.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Elizabeta said. "Sorry!"

Vash sighed. "Just start swimming. We can still make it back without getting caught."

But when they finally climbed, breathless, onto the shore they were greeted by a large group of teachers who didn't look pleased in the least.

"You two and you're…accomplices will be leaving first thing in the morning," said Fredrich, who stood at the front.

"Accomplices?" Elizabeta asked.

Adele and Lili peeked out from the back of the group.

"Lili?" Vash said, shocked. "What are you doing here?"

"We found these two wandering in the woods," Fredrich said.

"We got lost?" Adele said unconvincingly.

"We were informed that another girl, Anna-Marcheline, was also in the woods but we found her back at your cabin, asleep."

Elizabeta was instantly relieved but then frowned. "Who told you that she was in the woods?"

"That's none of your concern."

But Elizabeta knew right away that it had been Vivianne.

"Now, all of you, get back to your cabins and pack your things. First thing tomorrow morning, you're out of here."

"One more thing," Adele said. "I'm still hungry."

Everyone glared at her.

* * *

"Well it was fun while it lasted," Elizabeta said. She, Vash, Lili and Adele were standing at the entrance to the camp, waiting for the bus to arrive. Anna-Marcheline had been prohibited from seeing them off but had sleepily said her goodbyes that morning, extremely grateful for what they had all done for her.

"I'm sorry we got you in trouble, brother," Lili said.

Vash sighed. "It wasn't your fault."

When Anna-Marcheline had arrived back at the cabin without either her or Vash, Lili and Adele had gone out to look for them. They had been caught by the teachers just as they had stepped into the woods. They had all heard when Elizabeta had screamed and had rushed to the lake. What was most important was that Anna-Marcheline wouldn't be getting in trouble. Although the teachers suspected that she had been involved somehow, there was no way to prove it and could not punish her for it. Elizabeta was furious that Vivianne had sold them out. She had never trusted her.

"I don't mind going home early," Adele said. "This place was terrible. And the food sucked too."

Elizabeta exchanged looks with Lili and they both smiled.

Adele looked past Elizabeta and frowned. "Well look who it is. The snitch."

Elizabeta turned around to see Vivianne approaching them. Despite the early hour, she was fully dressed and every strand of her hair was perfectly in place. As usual, she was wearing her cat smile.

"What are you doing here?" Elizabeta asked angrily.

"I came to say goodbye. I heard about what happened last night."

"Of course you did, because you're the one who told."

"Really Elizabeta, I can't believe you would think that of me. Why would I ever do that?"

"Because you're a little bitch."

Vivianne put a hand to her heart. "Ouch, that hurt. Anyway I really should be going before they find me here. But before I do, I want you to remember what I told you before Elizabeta. Don't give up. Goodbye and good luck."

Elizabeta watched Vivianne go. She still didn't understand her at all.

"What was that about?" Adele asked.

"I have no idea," Elizabeta said.

"Well good riddance to her too," Adele said. "Check it out ya'll. They sent the short bus for us. Cute. Let's blow this popsicle stand."

The bus driver loaded up bags and Elizabeta was just about to step onto bus when Fredrich, the camp director, walked up to them.

"I'm just here to make sure that you all leave safely," he said.

"Well we're just peachy, sir," Adele saluted from the window.

"If you don't mind me asking, who was it that told you Anna-Marcheline was in the woods?" Elizabeta asked.

"It's not my place to tell," Fredrich said.

"We'll be gone from here in less than a minute. What could it hurt?"

Fredrich hesitated but then answered, "It was Miss. LeBlanc."

"Who?"

"Lynette LeBlanc. She was the one who told us that she saw Miss. Benoit go into the woods."

Elizabeta looked in the direction Vivianne had gone and smiled. "Thank you."

* * *

Despite what she had told Vash, Elizabeta half expected that the house would be in ruin or least find the remnants of a drunken orgy. But the house was spotless and she found Gilbert asleep in the indoor movie theater, surrounded by empty bottles of beer and boxes of cigarettes.

"Liz?" he groaned when she shook him awake. "What are you doing back so early? Was camp fun?"

"We got kicked out. And it was...interesting. Did you have fun here?"

"Hell no. I was bored as fuck and this place is shit. The only thing playing is _Gone With the Wind_. Most boring movie ever. This is the third time I've watched it."

"_Sir, you are no gentleman_," Elizabeta said.

"_And you, Miss, are no lady_," Gilbert replied.

They both grinned.

"So, did Vash shoot you?" Gilbert asked, lighting up another cigarette.

"No, in fact, he was quite pleasant. He's even invited me to come back and visit. And Lili was wonderful."

Gilbert stared at her. "Vash? Pleasant? Impossible. Tell me everything."

"Get cleaned up and I will."

"Are we still going to Spain on Tuesday?"

"Absolutely."

"Fuck yes! Remember what you promised?"

Elizabeta groaned. "Yes. I do. Unfortunately."

"Gilbert!" they heard Vash yell. "What the fuck did you leave in my bed?"

Gilbert paled. "Oh…fuck," he said before he bolted out of the room. Second later, Elizabeta heard the sound of gunshots and Gilbert's screaming. Deciding it would be best to wait until everything calmed down, she grabbed a half-empty bucket of popcorn from the floor and sunk into the plush chairs.

"_Tara! Home. I'll go home,_ Scarlett said on the screen._ "And I'll think of some way to get him back. After all... tomorrow is another day._"

.

.

.

_Palermo, Sicily_

Lovino Vargas raised his gun at the sound of a knock on the front door.

"Why have you come here?" he asked slowly.

"To buy a crate a cherry red tomatoes," came the answer.

Lovino sighed and went to open the door. The man on the other side was almost a head shorter than him and completely bald. He was one of the laziest and sneakiest people Lovino knew. He was also the one that had been keeping him safe. If it wasn't for him, Lovino would have been dead weeks ago.

"Can we please get a new password? I hate tomatoes," the man said.

Lovino ignored this. "What the fuck took you so long?" he snapped.

"It's getting harder and harder to move around the city. You were right, something's up."

Lovino swore. "Were you able to get any information?"

"Nothing. Everyone is more tight-lipped than a clam. They're scared shitless and I don't blame 'em. I did get some food though." The man tossed him the sack in his hands. Lovino reached in and pulled out a bright red tomato. He raised an eyebrow. The man shrugged.

"Just because I don't like 'em doesn't mean I ain't gonna buy 'em."

Lovino smiled for the first time since Elizabeta had left. "Thanks," he said, before biting into the fruit. He set the rest of the sack down on an overturned crate and pulled out a rusting chair from the table and sat down.

"So when are you getting out of here?" the man asked.

Lovino shrugged. "No clue."

"It's not safe in the city. We can probably stay here for, at most, another day or two before we have to move again."

Lovino glanced around the filthy apartment. When they had broken into the abandoned building all the other rooms had been in varying states of decay. This had been the cleanest one they could find and he still woke up at night to find mice crawling over his sheets. But they had been there the longest and it was starting to feel almost comfortable.

"The best thing for you to do now would be to get out of Palermo," the man said.

"I know, I know."

"If you know so much then why are you still here?"

Lovino shrugged and didn't answer.

"You're not gonna find Maria here. If they haven't already caught her then she's long gone. Just go, while you still can."

"What about you?"

The man snorted. "What about me? Kid, I've lived in this city my whole life. I was born here and I'm gonna to die here. There's no getting out for me. I'm too old now. But you can still get out so don't waste that chance."

Lovino popped the last bit of the tomato into his mouth and stood up. "I think I'm going to go for a walk," he said.

The man frowned. "Kid, I'm serious. It ain't safe out there."

"I'm going to go stir crazy if I stay here any longer. I'll be back soon. While I'm gone you can think of a new password."

The man grinned. "Will do kid. Stay safe."

"Yeah," Lovino muttered before he closed the door. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and headed towards the staircase. He was halfway down the hall when he heard the sound of someone coming up the stairs. He spun around and ran back towards the apartment. He pounded furiously on the door.

"Open up! Open up you fucker!" he yelled.

"Why have you come here?"

"This isn't the fucking time! Tomatoes! Goddamn tomatoes! Open the fucking door!" The door flew open and Lovino stumbled inside.

"We need to get the fuck out of here," he said quickly. The man didn't bother asking why when he saw his face. He ran to the kitchen and wrenched open the cupboard under the sink. He pulled out two black bags and tossed both to Lovino. They could hear voices in the hallway now.

"We'll take the fire escape," he said. The both hurried into the room that Lovino had slept in. The man pulled open the window next to old mattress, grabbed Lovino by the collar and shoved him out onto the fire escape. He didn't climb out after him.

"What are you waiting for?" Lovino hissed. "Get the fuck out of there!"

The man shook his head. "Nah, kid. I'm tired of running."

"What the hell are you saying?"

"I'm sayin' that I'm finally gonna get to see my wife again. If the big guy doesn't kick me straight down to hell first. Good luck, kid. Get the hell out of here." The man then slammed the window down and flipped the lock in place.

"Motherfucker!" Lovino screamed as he tried to pull up the window. When it wouldn't budge he pulled out his gun and was about to shoot through the glass when he heard the sound of gunfire in the apartment. "Shit!" Immediately he flattened himself against the floor of the fire escape and began crawling towards the stairs. When he reached the street he looked back up at the window. He couldn't hear any more sounds coming from the apartment. He leaned against the wall next to the fire escape and let himself slide down to the ground. His breath was coming in fast short gasps and he had to close his eyes and count to ten before he was able to calm down. He then assessed his situation. All his contacts were now dead or gone. He would never find Maria now. He was completely alone in the city. Part of him wanted to sit there and wait for them to come and kill him but he wasn't ready to die just yet.

Lovino got to his feet and unzipped one of the two bags the man had given him. Inside was a handgun, bullets and a cell phone. He loaded the gun and slipped it into the waistband of his pants. The cell phone would come in handy later. Then, without a single glance back, he took off running down the street.

* * *

_June 7th,_

_Dear Elizabeta,_

_Camp is the last place I expected you to be. I'll be looking forward to a full explanation as soon as possible. I hope you enjoy yourself nonetheless._

_The music festival is as entertaining as ever. I did get into a small argument with one man over Beethoven. He insisted that Beethoven was German but everyone knows that Beethoven was Austrian. Tomorrow, there will be Chopin performances and I am very excited to attend. I hope to also purchase some new pieces. I will play them for you when I visit, which I promise will be as soon as I can.  
_

_Enjoy your time in Spain and I wish you the best of luck_

_-Roderich_

_p.s- I don't hate your friend.  
_

* * *

**A/N: **So Spain is definitely next. No more surprises, for now XD The next two chapters will be extra fun for me to write so expect them soon!

Also, if you're wondering who Maria is, I would advise you to look back at Romano's chapter ;)

Also, another note. My OC's are my OC's and I hate would to be responsible for any behavior they might influence. So please kids, don't smoke when you're 13. It's not good for you. Don't be like Gilbert either.

-with love

dancer


	8. Spain: Day 40 - 46

**A/N:** I really did my best to keep this chapter under 15K words. It was seriously beginning to get away from me XD

Enjoy!

**Extra note: **A few reviews for last chapter commented on Elizabeta's lack of romantic interaction with Vash. I just wanted to make it clear that not every chapter will be romantic. Many will be purely platonic actually. Just letting you guys know ;3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or Merlot**

* * *

_Spain:_

_Day 40 - 46  
_

_June 13__th_

_Dear Roderich,_

_Greetings from the Canary Islands! Everything here is beautiful but also extremely crowded so I'm not sure how much you would like it. Gilbert's house, well villa actually, is on Tenerife—that's the biggest of the islands. We're right on the coast and the view is amazing. So far things have been more eventful than I could have imagined. I had a minor accident but I'm alright now so no need to worry. Gilbert and I have made a new friend who's been taking us on a wonderful tour around some of the bigger islands. When I finally print them out, I'll send you lots of pictures! I can't wait to hear all the pieces you brought from the music festival!_

_-Elizabeta_

_p.s.- Beethoven was German :P_

* * *

Elizabeta tapped a filed nail against the side of the large boat. It was a brand new speed boat, fully equipped with a variety of supposedly impressive features that she didn't care to remember. She sighed. The salesman had been going on for what seemed like ages but she had stopped paying attention after the first few minutes. Gilbert was hanging on every word the man said, more engaged and focused than normal. The fact that the salesman was tan, fit and very handsome was probably one of the contributing factors. At that moment, she wasn't in the mood to compete with Gilbert so she had barely looked at the salesman after the initial introduction. Her mind was in other places, on other people…

"So, Liz, what do you think?"

Elizabeta looked up to see both Gilbert and the salesman staring at her eagerly.

"Huh? Think about what?" she asked, not bothering to hide the fact that she hadn't been listening to anything either of them had said up to this point.

"The boat of course," Gilbert said impatiently. "What do you think about it?"

Oh, the boat. What did she think about the boat? She thought absolutely nothing about the boat. She didn't understand why it was even necessary to buy the boat. She very much wanted to say to hell with the boat but she had promised Gilbert that she wouldn't complain and that she would try to enjoy herself. He had put up with her on her so far fruitless journey, even when they were in mortal danger. She owed him at least two weeks of fun.

"I like it," she lied. "You should buy it."

The salesman grinned widely and turned back to Gilbert. "I think the words of a pretty lady should be more than enough to convinc—"

"I don't want it," Gilbert said.

Elizabeta held back a groan and the salesman's grin faltered.

"If I was anyone else it would be perfect, but, for me, it's just not at that level of sheer awesome," Gilbert said matter-of-factly.

"Are you looking for something faster?" the salesman asked quickly. "Because we have much faster."

Gilbert shook his head. "It's not the speed, but the boat overall. It will have a certain, I don't know…aura."

Elizabeta raised an eyebrow. The salesman looked completely lost.

"Aura, sir?" he asked.

"I can't explain it," Gilbert said, "but I'll know it when I see it and this isn't it. Trust me. So what else do you have?"

"Let me check our computer database. I might be able to find what you're looking for at one of our other marinas." The salesman said before hurrying off.

Elizabeta crossed her arms and leaned against the rejected boat. It swayed beneath her and, thinking better of it, she stood straight up. "I don't understand why this is such a challenge for you. How hard is it to find a good boat? Just what in the world are you looking for?"

Gilbert thought for a second before he answered, "Something that when people look at they think, 'Yep, that's a boat Gilbert Beilschmidt would drive'."

"I have no clue what that means but this doesn't?" Elizabeta asked, pointing to the boat after her. "Or the ten others we've seen today?"

"Nope. They say, "This is the type of boat someone who wishes he was Gilbert Beilschmidt would drive'."

Elizabeta sighed again. "You're hopeless. This is the third marina we've been to today. Can you please just pick something?"

"Is that complaining I hear Elizabeta? I thought we weren't going to be having any of that."

Elizabeta bit her lip, feeling like a scolded child. "Sorry. I'm just tired and it's too hot out." She thought that perhaps it had been unwise to visit southern Spain in the middle of June.

Gilbert spread out his arms. "Well there's plenty of water around. Feel free to jump in anytime."

"Thanks," Elizabeta said as she looked down at the algae that floated on top of the blue-green water that surrounded the marina," but no thanks. So, when you find this super special boat, what are you going to name her?"

"Not sure. I haven't thought about it yet."

"How about Elizabeta?" she said sweetly.

"How about in your dreams?" Gilbert replied just as sweetly.

Elizabeta pouted. "It was just a suggestion. You might as well name it after yourself."

"That's not a bad idea actually."

"Don't you know sarcasm when you hear it?"

"The heat is making you extra bitchy as well. If you really want, you can go back to the house. Honestly, you're pretty much useless at this. I can't believe you didn't even know the difference between a speed boat and a sailboat. How sad."

Elizabeta put her hands on her hips. "Well excuse me for not having rich parents who throw away money on stupid boats!" she snapped. "I only came along for moral support but I guess if you don't need me…"

At that moment, the salesman came back from his office with a stack of papers clutched in his hand.

"I think, Mr. Beilschmidt, what you are looking for might be among these." He handed the papers to Gilbert who flipped through them quickly. "As I thought, some of them are at our other marinas."

Gilbert looked up from the papers, a sly smile on his face. "First off, I already told you to call me Gilbert. Second, how about we go to your office and review these together?" He turned to Elizabeta. "You can go now, Liz. Like I said, you're kind of useless at this."

Elizabeta narrowed her eyes at him. She knew exactly why he wanted her out of his way and it had nothing to do with her lack of knowledge regarding watercraft vessels. She wasn't about to start protesting though. She had had enough of following Gilbert around for one day.

"Fine. I'll see you back at the house," she said, turning back towards the entrance of the marina. "Have fun."

"I will," Gilbert called giddily after her.

When Elizabeta arrived back at where their rental car was parked, she found the driver leaning against the front bumper smoking. He straightened up when he saw her and was about to throw the cigarette to the ground but she stopped him.

"You don't have to do that," she said. "Actually, do you have another one of those?"

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out the box of cigarettes. He handed her one and then lit it with a rusty lighter.

"Thanks," she said before inhaling deeply. She broke into a coughing fit immediately after.

"Not your type?" the man asked, smirking.

Elizabeta grimaced. "I don't smoke often. I don't really like doing it," she said shortly, which was exactly why she hadn't asked Gilbert for a cigarette. She was supposed to be the better of the two and she wasn't in the mood for his teasing.

"Rough day?" the driver asked.

"Mostly just tiring. And it's too hot."

"Welcome to Tenerife. It's even worse in July."

Elizabeta exhaled a cloud of light gray smoke. "Do you work then too?" she asked.

The driver nodded. "Of course."

"How can you stand it, the heat?"

He shrugged. "Good weather means more rich tourists," he said simply. He dropped his cigarette on the ground and stubbed it out with his foot. "Is there anywhere else you would like to go today?"

"No, you can take me back to the house. Sorry for dragging you around everywhere today," she said sheepishly.

The driver shrugged again. "It's my job. I don't mind if you smoke in the car but leave the windows open." He got back into the car and started up the engine.

"No problem," Elizabeta said, sliding into the backseat.

"And we can take the scenic route, if you would like that," the driver said as they pulled away from the marina.

Elizabeta leaned against the seat and took another drag from the cigarette. "I would like that," she said. "Thank you."

.

.

.

When the driver pulled up to the villa, Elizabeta thanked him again and purposely overpaid him. She stepped out of the car before he could say anything and made her way slowly to the large gated house that seemed to grand to belong to her best friend. By now, she should have been accustomed to these expensive houses, mansions really, but she had still let out a little gasp of surprise when she had first seen where she would be living for the next two weeks. Situated on the coast, overlooking the ocean, the seven bedroom villa was luxurious, but classic, designed to look simple and comfortable, lacking the typical giant chandeliers, grand staircases with gold railings and intimidating priceless statues around every corner. She felt much less overwhelmed in it than when she visited Gilbert's house in Berlin.

Of all the rooms to choose from, she had taken one of the two eastern facing rooms that offered a breathtaking view of the Adeje coastline. Scattered along the seemingly endless beach were various resorts whose guests spend countless hours lying out in the sun or swimming in the beautiful blue water. She had yet to go down to the beach, partially because being among so many people would only tire her out further and because the last time she had been to the ocean had been in Palermo and the last thing she needed were more painful reminders of that city.

Elizabeta leaned against the railing that encircled the balcony just outside her room and suddenly wished that she was back at camp. She missed the silence and solitude of nature. She even missed the girls. Being once more in a crowded city was only giving her a headache and, because of her promise to Gilbert, she had no plans for Spain. She wasn't there to look for love or adventure. For the next two weeks she was just another tourist so she would have to do as tourists do. She left the balcony and went down to the pool.

Gilbert found her half asleep on one of the pool deck chairs an hour later. After shaking her awake, he proceeded to tell her that she was an idiot to lie out in the sun like that and would probably die from both heatstroke and skin cancer. Then, he proudly informed her that he was now the owner of a brand new Sunseeker 37 meter yacht.

"You bought a _yacht_?" Elizabeta exclaimed. Even she was familiar with the Sunseeker name and knew enough to know their boats were far from cheap. "You were supposed to buy something simple!"

Gilbert ignored this comment and sat down on the chair next to her's. "As soon as I saw it I knew it was the right one for me. It's a triple-decker with five cabins that can hold up to twelve people. It has a Twin MTU 4000 V12 engine and can reach a max speed of 48 kph. And it's got satellite TV and surround sound and even iPod docking! Fucking awesome, right?"

"Gilbert, I don't care about the damn details! How much did this thing even cost?" Elizabeta asked. He told her and her mouth fell open.

"…your brother is going to kill you," she whispered. "_I'm_ going to kill you! Where did you get that much money and how could you throw it all away on a yacht?"

"Stop screaming and calm down," Gilbert said. "It turns out the owner of the marina is an old friend of my grandfathers and sold him all of his boats. So, in his honor, he gave me a great deal. Not only did he slash the original price by 70% but he also set me up with this awesome monthly payment plan. Isn't that great?"

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it's sounds absolutely amazing," she said dryly.

"Just another reason why it's so awesome to be me," Gilbert said smugly.

"Ludwig is still going to kill you. Even with the price cut and payment plans that yacht is way out of your price range. You've practically thrown away your whole inheritance! What are we going to live on for the next five months?"

Gilbert shrugged. "West won't see the charges for at least another week. I'll deal with him then. As for our current financial situation, you're forgetting that, along with the money my grandfather left me, I also own 2% of a multi-billion dollar corporation and the 2nd quarter profits are being released in a few weeks. Considering how well sales have been recently, I don't doubt that it's going to be an epic pay day when the first check comes in. It's taken long enough." He flashed her a thumbs up. "We're going to be A-OK!"

Elizabeta gave him a look of disgust. "Wow, it must great to be able to solve all of your fuck ups with money."

"It makes the world go round, Liz. And why so bitter? I said we're going to be fine."

"I'm 'bitter' because there was no reason for us to end up in this situation in the first place if you had just been responsible and not overindulgent, for once!" she snapped.

"Well it is _my_ money and I can do whatever the hell I want with it," Gilbert shot back. "I'm here with you because I'm your friend. I don't have to help you fund this stupid trip."

"Then don't!" Elizabeta said angrily. "I never asked you to."

"No, you asked my brother to. Behind my back," Gilbert said accusingly.

"I did not! He suggested it and I accepted and I told you about it afterwards."

"When everything was already said and done."

"You don't have to come along with me if you don't want to, Gilbert. This was supposed to be a solo trip in the first place. I spent years responsibly saving my money and I'll be fine without you and your endless millions!"

Gilbert stood up from the chair. "You know what? Fuck this. It's the weather that is obviously making you act like a crazy bitch. I'm going inside. Let me know when you've cooled down." He headed back towards the house. He paused at the sliding glass door and turned around. "Oh yeah, and I'm having a party tonight on the yacht. Since you clearly don't approve of it I'm just going to assume that you don't want to come."

"You're right, I don't!" Elizabeta yelled back.

"You would have ruined the night anyway!" Gilbert yelled and then went inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Damn idiot," Elizabeta muttered darkly to herself. "He has no self control and always thinks he can do whatever he wants because he has money coming out of his ears. I should have just left him in Berlin." She had no clue why she had gotten so angry but she did know that she was tired of Gilbert always bending the rules in his favor. She hated his selfish attitude and was suddenly furious at him for making her promise not to look for love in Spain. This trip was for _her_. It had been _her_ idea and was the result of months of _her_ own planning. She had put almost all of her hard earned money into the trip and, even with Gilbert's extra money, had tried to spend it wisely. She was the one Gilbert was supposed to have been following all day, not the other way around. Her problems were supposed to be their focus. They had spent their first day on Tenerife barhopping, wasting money at tourist traps and she had even stupidly let Gilbert coax her into going to a spa and getting a manicure. Now, she glared at her perfectly filed and lightly painted nails. She was not traveling around the world for cosmetic beauty treatments. She remembered how, right before he had made her promise to only have fun in Spain, Gilbert had complained about her habit of ditching him.

"I don't want another situation where you run off and I get left behind," he had said bitterly.

She had apologized for her behavior then but now regretted giving in so easily. What did he expect? He should have known what he was getting into when he invited himself along. Now, if he was angry enough to pack up and go home after what she had just said to him then she would be happy to have him out of her way. He was only slowing her down.

Elizabeta sighed and took off her sunglasses. She leaned back against the deck chair and at that moment, she was overcome by guilt for both her thoughts and actions. Gilbert was not only her friend, but her best friend. If it wasn't for him then, by now, she might have been, if not dead, then extremely discouraged, perhaps she might have even already given up on her journey. He had supported her—even if grudgingly at times—throughout. That was almost eight weeks. She had given him only two days before throwing everything he had done for her back in his face. She groaned and covered her face with her hands. Yes, Gilbert was selfish, but she was turning out to be much worse.

It was suddenly too hot for her to lie there in the sun a second longer and the pool was looking extremely tempting. Before she could talk herself out of it, she kicked off her shoes and took a running leap into the cool water, still fully clothed. She swam to the end of the pool and pulled herself onto the hot deck, feeling both refreshed and clear-headed. She then got to her feet and went inside, still dripping wet, to find Gilbert and tell him that she would attend his party.

She would apologize again too.

* * *

The yacht lurched beneath her feet and Elizabeta had to grab onto the bar top to keep from falling over and spilling the champagne in her hands. The man she had been trying to get away from for the past ten minutes wasn't as fortunate and spilled his drink on the front of his jacket.

"Someone needs to tell the Captain to be more careful," he grumbled. He grabbed a napkin from the bar and dabbed at the stain. His name was Justin. Or maybe it was Jack. Elizabeta had already forgotten. He was the son of some famous bank owner and was interning at an equally famous multi-facet corporation in Madrid that she had never heard of but apparently was supposed to so she had nodded and forced a smile when he told her this. He was visiting Tenerife for a few days and fully enjoying it's great sights, alcohol and women. When he had finally, and surprisingly, stopped talking about himself and asked what she was doing on the island she said she was a simple tourist traveling with her boyfriend. The last bit had been meant to deter him but, if anything, it only made him flirt more. So far, she hadn't had a chance to politely escape but now she saw the opportunity that he of all people had given her and grabbed it.

She set her drink down on the bar. "Yes, you're right. Someone should go tell him. I think I'll do it. Be back in a bit!" Before Justin/Jack could say anything, she was gone, pushing though the tight crowds in search of Gilbert. She found him in the wheelhouse surrounded by a small group of people, a sailor's cap perched sideways on his head and a half-empty bottle of beer in his hands.

"Hey, Captain," she said when she reached him, "can you try being a little gentler with that thing before you toss us all overboard?"

"Look guys, it's my First Mate!" Gilbert said, laughing. The people around him, all just as intoxicated, joined in.

"I'm serious Gilbert. Be careful," Elizabeta warned.

"Yes sir, First Mate Hédeváry, sir," Gilbert said, giving her a drunken salute. Everyone laughed harder.

Elizabeta gave him a tight smile. "And try not to get too wasted, okay?"

"You worry too much, Liz. I'm…I'm peachy perfect," he said grinning.

"I can see that," she muttered. If this had been any other time she might have forcibly removed him from his Captain's chair, but she was supposed to be on her best behavior; she was supposed to be having fun. So she held back her disproving comments and headed for the stairs.

Deciding to avoid the lower levels for the time being, she went up to the top deck where it was only slightly less crowded. There were far too many people on the yacht. She had no idea where Gilbert had found all of them. Handsome men in vests and two-piece suits and women in bright cocktail dresses swarmed around, most likely all worth 100x more than her and not afraid to show it. They assumed that she was one of them and treated her as such. She wondered what Justin/Jack would say or what any of them would say if they knew that she didn't spend her weekends watching polo matches or attending benefit dinners or that the designer dress she was wearing had been given to her as a gift by a woman whose life she had ruined. Despite her protests, the day she had gone shopping with Luciana, on their way out the door following their purchase of her dress for the party, Luciana had spotted and insisted on buying the more casual dark green dress as well, saying that Elizabeta would need it, even if she didn't think so at the moment. Elizabeta had fully intended to return the dress at a later point, but after the horrible party, hadn't had the chance to before leaving Palermo. The dress had lay at the bottom of her suitcase since then. She had worn it that night because it was the only thing she had to fit Gilbert's dress code of 'semi-formal' although, just looking at it had made her ill. She felt even worse now and went to the edge of the boat, afraid she was going to be sick. She gripped the railing encircling the deck tightly and stared out at the endless sea of dark water that stretched before her, taking deep breaths. In the distance she could see other large boats gliding over the water, their bright lights like a beacon in the darkness.

She heard a sharp scream from below and leaned over the railing to see a girl on the lower deck being dangled over the edge of the yacht. Two other people who Elizabeta assumed were her friends held her by her arms and swung her back and forth over the water while she simultaneously screeched and laughed in delight. With the three glasses of champagne she had drunk earlier acting as liquid courage, Elizabeta stepped up onto the railing so that she could see better and so that she could yell down to the people that they were being complete idiots for doing something so dangerous. She nearly fell forward when someone bumped into her from behind. She turned around to tell them to watch where they were going when the yacht pitched violently forward, again, and she lost her grip on the railing and fell over the edge, too shocked to even scream.

Right before she hit the water, she felt a sharp pain in her head and everything suddenly went black. Then she felt the coldness of the water and knew that she was sinking. She struggled to move, to kick towards the surface, but her arms and legs weren't responding and she could still see nothing except darkness. Her body was screaming for air but she was only sinking faster. Her last thought before she passed out was that she was going to kill Gilbert for this.

She dreamed that she was being lifted out of a sea of dark water and was carried, still and unmoving, to a boat. She was laid down gently on the deck and then someone was kissing her, breathing into her and she gasped, as if offended by such a forward action and her eyes flew open briefly. In her dream her rescuer had bright green eyes and, if it was possible in her state of unconsciousness, her heart jumped because those eyes looked so familiar and though she would never admit it awake, she wanted it to be him so much it hurt but then everything faded to black once more. It was strange, but she suddenly heard Gilbert's voice. He sounded frantic and scared and she wanted to ask what he was doing in her dream but then she knew no more and the next time she opened her eyes it was morning and she knew she was awake because she had a splitting headache and could feel every little ache in her body.

Groaning, she sat up and realized that she was in her bed at the villa and wondered how she had gotten there. Her last memory was of boats drifting across the dark water. No. Her last memory was of a pair of bright green eyes…

Elizabeta flung off the bedcovers and gasped when she saw that underneath she was only in her underwear. She no recollection of taking her clothes off either and, with a feeling of rising dread, wondered what exactly had gone on the night before. She grabbed the robe next to her bed and hurried downstairs, hoping that she hadn't done anything too embarrassing.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" she called when she got to the ground floor.

She turned at the sound of footsteps and saw Gilbert step out of the kitchen, his face making it clear that he was surprised to see her.

"Elizabeta! You're awake!" he said happily. "And not paralyzed!"

"Yes I—why would I be paralyzed? Wait, don't answer that yet. First, I need you to tell me what happened last night? My head hurts and I ache all over but I can barely remember anything after coming to see you. Did I drink too much and do something stupid? Is that why I'm only wearing my underwear?" She suddenly remembered something else and blushed. "And—and I had the strangest dream. In it someone rescued me and then, and then they kissed me. It all seemed so real and they had these lovely green eyes and I thought…well, I thought it was…" she trailed off, not sure she wanted to admit who she thought it had been although, now Gilbert's look had changed from happy to extremely curious and she knew he would pester her until she told him.

She was saved from having to answer by the sound of someone coming down the stairs. She turned around to see a dark-haired man descending the spiral staircase. When he reached the landing he gave her a bright white smile but it was his green eyes that she was looking at.

"It's nice to see that you're awake," he said in English. She noticed he had a light Spanish accent. "How are you feeling?"

Elizabeta raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry but do I know you?" she asked bluntly. She hoped he wasn't who Gilbert had brought home from the party. She couldn't help but notice that he was very handsome, which only further supported her assumptions. That morning she was in no mood to deal with another of her best friend's one night stands.

"Wow Liz, way to be completely rude to the guy who saved you life," Gilbert muttered.

Elizabeta gasped. "Really? You did? I'm sorry; I can barely remember anything from last night. What happened?" She was beginning to think that her dream hadn't really been a dream.

"You fell off the boat and would have drowned if Antonio hadn't jumped in after you," Gilbert answered.

"I saw when you hit your head and knew something was wrong when you didn't immediately come back up," the man, Antonio, said. "I got you back on the boat and was able to revive you there."

"Afterwards, he said you would be fine, but I still asked him to stay the night just in case you ended up paralyzed," Gilbert said proudly, as if his had been the smartest decision.

Internally, Elizabeta was reeling. She didn't remember any of this except as an all too vivid dream. Absentmindedly, she wondered if she was cursed. In Palermo, she had fallen off a building into a river. In Austria, she had been shoved by Gilbert off the dock into Lake Constance. At camp, a canoe had sunk from beneath her. And now she had apparently fallen off a boat and been rescued by a handsome stranger. Perhaps a higher power was trying to tell her something—perhaps to stay away from water? She wished they would try a less subtle message.

"So that was you, you were the one who kissed me," Elizabeta said softly, disappointedly, without thinking.

Gilbert snickered. "I think that knock on the head affected you more than we thought. Your social skills are way off today. It was just CPR Liz."

"Well another name for it is the kiss of life," Antonio said brightly. "And if I was going to give it to anyone, I'm glad it was you."

Elizabeta felt herself blush. "Thank you so much, n-not just for the CPR but jumping in the water after me. True, I can barely remember it, but I'm eternally grateful for what you did. If there's anything I can do to repay you…"

Antonio made a dismissing gesture. "It was no problem. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time."

"Well we can't let you go just like that…I know, have lunch with us! Then you can tell me everything. I'll think of some way to thank you properly afterwards," Elizabeta said. "Please?"

"I have to second her proposal," Gilbert said. "And that dive you did off the boat was too awesome. You have to tell me where you learned that."

Antonio looked thoughtful for a second but then answered, "I don't have any plans for the day so why not?"

"Great!" Elizabeta said. "Let me get dressed and we can go. Actually, I have one more question. Who undressed me?"

"That would be me," Gilbert said.

"I thought so," Elizabeta said before punching him in the stomach. Gilbert groaned and fell to his knees and Elizabeta hurried back up the stairs. "Pervert," she said over her shoulder.

.

.

.

They ended up at a tourist trap, sitting outside under a large white plastic umbrella sipping overpriced fruity drinks. Next to them sat a group of Americans all wearing bright, tropical shirts and khaki shorts talking loudly about how charming the locals were. One of them was thumbing through a Portuguese-English dictionary.

"Sorry for the poor choice of venue. This is only our third day here and we haven't had a chance to do much exploring," Elizabeta said as she closed her menu. The cheapest thing on it still made her eyes widen so she had decided that she would just wait until they got back to the villa to eat. The last thing she wanted to do now was spend any more money when there was no guarantee there was anything left to spend. "I was hoping to find somewhere more authentic…and cheaper."

"I doubt you'll find a place like that here," Antonio said. "Tenerife is one of the major tourist destinations in the world."

"I could tell," she said, eyeing the other people around them.

A middle-aged British couple sat down at the table across from them.

"We should demand a refund for our hotel room. I specifically asked for a western facing room so that I wouldn't be disturbed by the sun. And our neighbors are much too loud. What in the world do you think they're doing over there? Don't answer that. They are _newlyweds_ after all," the woman said. She wrinkled her nose. "Disgusting."

The man didn't seem to hear her but the woman continued on.

"And I cannot believe that we don't have our own private beach even though it was one of the features advertised on the website. I absolutely cannot enjoy a relaxing afternoon in the sun unless it's a private setting. I told you that we should have rented one of those charming villas instead of staying at a hotel. You never listen to me. What does this place even have to eat? You know local food makes me ill. And it's too hot today. I cannot believe I left my hat in the room. I suppose I'll have to buy a new one along with new bed sheets. Did you see the look of the room service? They won't clean a thing. Perhaps we should just go home. I don't think I can stand another week here."

The man finally looked up, his face almost hopeful, but then the woman shook her head, her wavy blond hair flying around her face.

"I'll have to get through it, somehow. But I am requesting a room change as soon as we get back to the hotel."

The man's shoulders fell and he turned back to his menu. "Whatever you say dear," he murmured.

Elizabeta caught Antonio's eye, wondering if he had seen this exchange as well and they both smiled.

"I can't decide what I want," Gilbert moaned. "It all looks too…"

"Expensive?" Elizabeta offered.

"Delicious," Gilbert finished. He sighed heavily. "I feel like I'm back in Venice."

Elizabeta smiled. "You're right. I could really use Feliciano's advice right now. It's a shame that there's no risotto here. We were in Italy a few weeks ago," she said in response to Antonio's questioning look, "and we went on an impromptu food tasting spree with a friend in search of my 'true food'. It was all very fun." She remembered how happy and simple everything had been then. Nostalgia could be such a bittersweet friend.

"It sounds like you've been doing some traveling," Antonio said.

Elizabeta nodded. "I'm sort of on a journey around the world." She hoped Antonio wouldn't ask what type of journey.

Instead he only nodded. "I'm sort of on one too," he said.

"If you don't mind me asking," Elizabeta said, suddenly curious, "but what brings you to Tenerife? Are you from here?" He had obviously been at the party and everyone whom she had spoken to had been either on the Islands for business or on holiday.

"No, I'm from Barcelona but this is actually my first time back in Spain in over ten years. I only came back here for work."

"Where have you been until now?" Elizabeta knew she was being nosy but couldn't help herself. She was suddenly hit by a wave of déjà vu. This is how it had started in Venice, with a kind stranger, a dinner invitation and she being too curious for her own good. Except this time it was lunch and she didn't plan on asking if Antonio had any brothers.

"All over the place. I spent two years in Italy, three in Paris, one year in Vermont—that's in America—another year in South Africa, six months in Tokyo and I've spent the last three years in London."

"That's amazing!" Elizabeta said. "You've been all over the world! What have you been doing in all those places?" She bit her lip and looked down at her hands, ashamed of her overeager and curious nature. "Sorry, you don't have to answer that. I didn't mean to pry."

Antonio shook his head. "It's fine, really. I don't mind telling, it's fun for me to do so. All the places I've visited boast having some of the best culinary schools in the world and I wanted to see if this was true."

"Amazing," Elizabeta said again. "So you're world-class chef?"

Antonio laughed. "A wannabe chef, actually. My goal in life is to open my own restaurant, which is why I'm back in Spain."

"But why the Canary Islands?"

"Because of what you said earlier. These islands are full of overpriced tourist traps and I think people would enjoy being able to go to a place where the price of a meal doesn't rival their already ridiculous hotel bills."

Elizabeta nodded. "I understand what you mean and I agree with you 100%. Have you made much progress?"

Antonio's bright smile dimmed as he shook his head. "Honestly, no. The property I'm looking into is very much out of my price range and most of the money I make these days goes towards my rent. Everything seemed so simple on paper but it's much more complicated than I could have ever imagined." He smiled wider and his face grew once more optimistic. "But I'm not giving up. Things may be hard now but I'm confident that I will be successful and that I'll one day be able to bring the taste of the world to Tenerife. "

His words caught Elizabeta by surprise because they were so familiar. Everyone wanted to be successful, but Vivianne had been right, you couldn't just want it, you had to do whatever you could to achieve it. Antonio had spent the past 10 years doing just that. Unfortunately, she didn't have such a luxury. She had less than five months left. Time was running out and she needed to make the most out of every second, not counting the next week and a half of course. However, this didn't mean that she couldn't plan or strategize. Love was a battlefield after all, and she had to be properly prepared lest she risk another repetition of Palermo.

"I wish you the best, Antonio," she said. "In my own way, I know what you're going through. Things haven't gone as smoothly as I had hoped but I'm confident about the future."

"I'm glad to hear that," Antonio said. He smiled and she smiled back because he made it impossible not to.

He then held up his menu. "So have you decided what you want?"

"To eat? No, I'm not getting anything here. I'll just wait until I get back to the villa." She sighed. "If it wasn't for the fact that Gilbert owns property here we wouldn't even have come to the Canaries. This isn't where I imagined I would be when I was planning my stay here. I mean Tenerife is lovely, but I was looking forward to seeing 'real' Spain."

Antonio laughed. "I'm a little confused, what's 'real' Spain?"

"You know, Madrid, Barcelona, Seville, Valencia…places where there isn't a resort on every corner."

"There are thirteen Canary Islands. Tenerife is only one. What's stopping you from visiting the others?"

Elizabeta quickly glanced over at Gilbert, who was still pouring over his menu and didn't appear to have heard the last five minutes of conversation. She couldn't blame him, not completely at least. She was sure that she could convince him to take a day trip to the other islands as long as wherever they went had bars and nightclubs. It was her own reluctance to do something so spontaneous that was stopping her.

"I wouldn't know where to go," she said instead. "I don't know any Spanish or anything about the islands. And I don't really want to do anything impromptu. The last time I went somewhere without proper planning things turned out…bad." To say the least.

"I always thought experiencing the unexpected was one of the best things about life," Antonio said. "It makes it all the more exciting. Like deciding not to live the life other people have prepared for you and instead buying the cheapest plane ticket you can find, which just happens to lead to Parma, Italy."

Elizabeta thought for a second before adding, "Or…or walking into a clock store looking for directions and instead finding wonderland."

"Or seeing an ad for culinary school and applying because the idea makes you happy and later discovering that it's just what you've been looking for."

"Or losing a check at a train station and making a new friend."

"Deciding not to go back home and making a one year visit into two years and then two years into ten."

"Going to camp."

"Attending a party on a yacht."

"Falling in…," Elizabeta caught herself before she could finish. "I-I mean, falling off a yacht and being rescued by a kind stranger."

"Allowing said kind stranger to take you to Gran Canaria tomorrow."

Elizabeta's eyes widened. "Seriously? You would?"

Antonio nodded. "I think it would be fun and hopefully much more interesting than staying here."

"But, but…" There were so many reasons for Elizabeta to say no but at that moment they all seemed like shallow excuses. There was a time for a planning and then there was a time for throwing caution to the wind, crossing your fingers and hoping that if you fell you would at least land on your feet. After all, wasn't she in Spain to enjoy herself?

"You know what? That sounds like a great idea," she said. "Right Gilbert? A trip to Gran Canaria sounds great, doesn't it?"

"What's the nightlife like?" Gilbert asked from behind his menu.

"They boast to have some of the best among the islands," Antonio said.

"Sounds awesome to me. I'm there," Gilbert said. He then threw his menu down on the table called over the waitress and proceeded to order all the appetizers and another daiquiri.

* * *

The next morning, for the first time in weeks, Elizabeta woke up feeling giddy and excited. Despite severe temptation, she had resisted looking up Gran Canaria online and had decided to go truly impromptu. At 10, she and Gilbert met Antonio at the harbor and took a ferry to the island. She was initially disappointed to find that Gran Canaria had its fair share of crowds and resorts but soon forgot them when they arrived at the Jardín Botánico Canario Viera y Clavijo. The 27 acre botanical garden was home to over 500 plant species and Elizabeta was immediately charmed. Antonio led them through the different divisions of the garden, pointing out the various flora and making it clear that he had been there many times before. Elizabeta found the Garden of Cacti and Succulents to be her favorite area until Gilbert commented that it was only fitting for her to like cacti because they were just as prickly and untouched as she was. He ran off to look for a bathroom before she could catch him, leaving her and Antonio to wander around by themselves.

"You should take a picture here," Antonio said when they reached a small waterfall.

"You think so?" Elizabeta said as she eyed the water warily. She wasn't in the mood to get soaked again.

"Yeah, it's perfect. I don't know how long Gilbert will be gone so I can take it if you want."

"That's very sweet of you," Elizabeta said. She took her camera out of her bag and handed it to Antonio. "I think the memory card is almost full. I'll have to change it when I get back to the villa, but there should still be enough room for 3 or 4 pictures."

She walked slowly up the steps in front of the waterfall, looking closely for loose rocks or anything that she could trip over. When she reached the top she realized that such a spot, with its romantic backdrop, would be more suited for couples but she smiled widely as Antonio raised the camera and hoped that she didn't look horribly pathetic.

"Let's take one more," she said after Antonio had taken the picture. "But together this time. After all, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here and I want to remember that."

"Only if you promise to send me a copy," Antonio said.

"It's a deal."

A man from a tour group behind them happily agreed to take the picture and afterwards commented that they made a lovely pair. He walked away before Elizabeta could correct him, leaving her with a bright red face.

"Sorry about that," she muttered.

"Why? He said we looked lovely. That's a good thing, don't you think?" Antonio said in his perpetually cheerful manner.

Elizabeta couldn't help but smile. "You're right. It was a nice compliment." She remembered how she and Ludwig had been mistaken for a couple as well and wondered why people never said that she and Gilbert looked like a 'lovely pair'. She almost laughed out loud when she realized that the idea of Gilbert being 'lovely' made as much sense as them being a pair.

They moved away from the waterfall and continued down the walkway.

"Can I see the picture?" Antonio asked.

Elizabeta handed him the camera.

"He was right. We do look lovely," Antonio said before returning the camera to her. "Now I really want a copy."

"You will definitely be getting one," Elizabeta said. She was about to turn the camera off when she saw that her memory card was full. "Looks like I guessed wrong about how many pictures I had left. And this is only our first stop on the island; I was hoping to take more. I know Gilbert took a few of himself, I'll just delete those to make room."

"I hope you don't mind me asking," Elizabeta said as she flipped through the pictures on the camera, "but yesterday you mentioned that you were in America for a year. I'm planning on visiting New York in a few months and—even though I don't know if it's even close to Vermont—I was wondering what it's like over there."

"They're actually both in the upper east coast and are neighbors. I even took a few weekend trips to New York City."

"That's where I'm going!" Elizabeta said excitedly.

"Really? Hopefully not during the winter. It can get very _very_ cold there. I wasn't prepared and nearly froze to death in January." Antonio shuddered as if the thought itself chilled him.

"That's terrible! If everything goes how it should, I'll be there sometime in late July. It should still be nice then, right?"

Antonio nodded. "Expect heat, humidity and rain."

"Better than freezing," Elizabeta said. She found the first of the pictures of Gilbert. He had taken it in Venice and it was of him standing in front of the St. Mark's Basilica in the Piazza San Marco. He had a ridiculous expression on his face and was flashing a peace sign at the camera. She couldn't remember where she had been when he had taken it—most likely stuffing her face somewhere with Feliciano. She smiled but deleted the picture and continued searching for the rest.

"What are the people like?" she asked.

"Really nice. Especially in New York. Whenever I crossed the street the cab drivers always honked hello. Everyone is really busy though and always going somewhere. It really is the city that never sleeps."

"I'm so excited!" Elizabeta said. "I just hope I'm not completely broke by then. I've heard things are really expensive there."

"A lot of things are but you can buy a lot of cool trinkets and souvenirs from the street vendors, even designer clothes and bags."

"Really? That's so cool!" Elizabeta found two more pictures of Gilbert making weird faces and deleted them. "What else can you find…?" She forgot whatever else she was going to say when she saw the next picture on the camera. It was of her and Lovino, taken on the night of the party. They had been about to leave for the party when, without asking, Gilbert had grabbed the camera from her bag and snapped the candid picture. At that moment, she had been laughing at Lovino, who had been too embarrassed to look at her. She had realized what Gilbert was about to do a second before he took the picture and although her mouth was open in mid-laughter, her eyes were wide in surprise. Lovino's expression was somewhere between a scowl and shock. His face was bright red but when she looked at his green eyes she saw that there was something content, even, if it was possible, happy in them. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed that before. She couldn't believe that she had forgotten this picture.

"Elizabeta?"

"Huh?" She looked up from the camera and saw that Antonio was giving her a concerned look. She realized that she had stopped walking and was now standing awkwardly in the middle of the path while other tourists walked around her.

"Did you say something?" she asked.

"You were saying something but suddenly stopped. Are you okay?" Antonio asked.

Elizabeta put on her best smile. "Of course. I'm perfect. I just saw a, uh, shocking picture, that's all. What was I saying again?"

"You were asking about New York."

"Oh yes. What are the buildings like? Are they really all skyscrapers?"

They were still discussing the landscape of the city when Gilbert finally found them, claiming that he had gotten lost. He then said he was starving and tired of looking at plants that you could find in any common field or backyard. As much as she enjoyed walking around the gardens, Elizabeta couldn't deny that she was hungry as well so they left to find a place to eat. Antonio suggested a restaurant that he assured them was much more authentic and, when they arrived there, Elizabeta was pleased to find that the prices were reasonable. Afterwards, they headed back to Las Palmas where they spent the rest of the day exploring the capital of Gran Canaria. Finally, although reluctantly, Elizabeta finally walked along the sandy beach but then quickly retreated to the beach avenue where she watched Gilbert and Antonio swim out to the coral sandstone barrier that she was informed was commonly called 'the bar'. They stayed at the beach until the sun had completely set and Elizabeta wasn't surprised at all when Gilbert announced that he was ready to hit the 'real' bars. They found a taxi driver willing to make the 45 minute drive to Playa del Ingles and, once there, they moved in and out of the various bars. Normally, Elizabeta drank a beer or took a shot or two and spent the rest of the night keeping an eye on Gilbert but she couldn't bring herself to say no when Antonio ordered a third round of drinks and then a fourth and then she lost count. Sometime after 2 a.m., they left the last bar and walked with linked arms to one of the nightclubs where they danced, flirted and laughed until the sun rose. At that point, Elizabeta would have gladly splurged on a hotel room where they could sleep off their hangovers and rest their aching bodies but Antonio said he had work in the evening and couldn't afford to take the day off.

"Why didn't you say anything earlier? We didn't have to stay out the whole night," Elizabeta murmured. The three of them were seated on a bench overlooking the beach. Even in her intoxicated state she still felt a small pang in her chest as she remembered the last time she had watched the sun rise over the ocean. Next to her, Gilbert snored softly. Antonio looked as if he was barely keeping himself awake and she was half asleep herself.

"I didn't want to ruin the night. I wanted you to have fun," Antonio said yawning.

Elizabeta laughed softly. "I think we had too much fun."

"Gilbert certainly did."

"He always has too much fun. He never knows when to stop. I don't know how we're going to move him."

"You two should stay here and rest. I'm the one that has to work. I can go back to Tenerife myself."

Elizabeta managed to shake her head. "No, I can't let you go alone. We'll find a car and all go back together."

Somehow they found a taxi and somehow were able to board the ferry back to Tenerife. To keep themselves from falling asleep during the long voyage, Antonio told her more about his travels. She was surprised that he had yet to ask her about her own journey—most people would have by then. She was half grateful that he hadn't asked because she wasn't ready to talk about it.

Despite her protests, when they finally arrived at Tenerife, Antonio insisted on seeing them back to the villa and then proceeded to help her carry Gilbert inside. She had enough strength left to see him to the door.

"Thank you…for everything," she said heavily. "I know I'm going to hate myself when I wake up but it was definitely worth it."

Antonio smiled and she wondered how he could even muster the energy to do so. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

"I…I haven't let myself be so carefree in awhile. I feel like I've been keeping myself so closed up, so far away from everyone else. I've been stupid and scared these past few weeks, so afraid to let myself really do what I want to do, say what I want to say—I can't even freely talk to my best friend anymore—and I'm rambling now and I'm sorry because this has nothing to do with you but I just wanted to say thank you, again, for saving my life and for giving me a day of pure delight."

"It sounds like you've been through a lot," Antonio said. "I'm sorry."

"Please…please, don't be. I have so much shit I need to put behind me and I told myself I would, I really want move on but it's not that easy and part of me doesn't want to let go. I _can't_ let him go because I promised…I promised…and I always keep my promises." Elizabeta rubbed her eyes. "Damn it. I need to stop talking. I'm embarrassing myself and you need to get home and sleep. I'm sorry."

"Would you like to go to Fuerteventura tomorrow?" Antonio asked suddenly. "It has beautiful black sand beaches and some of the best sailing waters I've ever seen. I think you would like it."

Elizabeta blinked, her sleep-deprived brain struggling to understand what he was saying.

"Gilbert should come too," Antonio continued, oblivious to her present state of confusion. "He's the one with the huge yacht after all. There are a lot of hills on the island too; it's a great spot for hiking. Are you interested?"

"I…I…yes," Elizabeta said finally. "Yes."

Antonio beamed and once again she found herself returning the smile."That's great! I'll be around tomorrow afternoon. Sleep well!"

"I'll see you then and same to you," Elizabeta said. She gave him a tired wave and then closed the door. Lacking the strength to climb the stair to her room, she let herself collapse onto the couch in the den and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

.

.

.

"Gilbert! Gilbert come look! I see a turtle! There's a turtle swimming in the water!" Elizabeta squealed happily. The crystal clear water offered her a perfect view of the water below and over the past few hours of sailing she had seen schools of fish of all shapes, sizes and colors including marlin, which she had initially mistaken for swordfish. She had yet to see any whales although at one point she had seen a gray flash zip through the water and was almost certain that it had been a dolphin. Now, seeing the solitary turtle swim lazily behind the yacht sent her into a flurry of excitement.

"Gilbert, come quickly! You have to see it!" she called again.

"I'm a little busy at the moment, you know, navigating and not letting us crash into the rocks?" Gilbert yelled back.

"You liar! Get your butt out of the hot tub O Captain, my Captain! This is seriously a once in a lifetime sight!"

"My grandfather took my brother and me to the Galapagos Islands when I was ten. I've seen enough sea turtles to last a lifetime," Gilbert said. "Call me if you see a shark!"

Elizabeta scowled and turned back to the water. The sea turtle was proving to be a worthy opponent for the yacht, which was now only drifting with the currents. Although she still didn't approve of the boat couldn't help but feel happy to be on it. She doubted that she would ever be able to have such an experience on a commercial ferry. If she dared, she could climb over the railing and get even closer to the water but, with her luck, she would probably just end up falling in.

"Land ho!" Gilbert called. Elizabeta turned around to see him leaning against the railing on the upper deck, a towel wrapped around his waist. "Oh wait, that's just you Liz. My bad. Carry on with your turtle friends."

"Don't make me come up there!" Elizabeta yelled, shaking her fist. Gilbert only laughed.

Antonio suddenly appeared at the railing. "Lunch is ready!" he called.

"It's about damn time," Gilbert said as he followed Antonio back inside.

Elizabeta grabbed the railing and pulled herself to her feet. She glanced once more at the turtle before heading to the upper deck. She let out a little gasp when she saw the feast Antonio had laid out on the table. Gilbert's plate was already half full.

"This is wonderful, Antonio! You're a genius!" Elizabeta said.

Antonio laughed. "Really? It really isn't much but I tried. It's kind of weird cooking on a boat. I hope everything tastes alright."

"It's fucking awesome," Gilbert said through a full mouth.

"I don't even know where to start," Elizabeta said as she sat down. "It all looks so good!"

Antonio snapped his fingers. "I almost forgot!" He ran back to the kitchen and returned seconds later with an expensive looking bottle of red wine. "A present from my boss for all my hard work these past few weeks. Drinking alone is never fun so I thought I might as well bring it along today. It's Merlot, I hope you don't mind."

"I could never mind alcohol," Gilbert said. "Antonio, you are seriously my new best friend." He winked at Elizabeta who rolled her eyes. "Sit and pour three glasses."

Conversation flowed easily between the three of them and Elizabeta found it interesting how well Gilbert and Antonio got along. In a few minutes they were laughing and joking like old friends and she tried not to feel jealous or left out.

"I've been meaning to tell you that this is the most amazing yacht I've ever seen," Antonio said after they'd finished eating and the dishes had been cleared.

"It is, isn't it?" Gilbert said. He shot Elizabeta a smug look and she scowled back. "I'll give you the grand tour."

"If you need me, I'll be on the lower deck," Elizabeta said.

"Playing with the turtles again?" Gilbert said over his shoulder as he ushered Antonio out the door. "Have fun."

Elizabeta ignored him. The bottle of wine was nearly empty but she took it with her anyway. She wasn't too surprised to find that the turtle was still following the yacht.

"Did you miss me?" she asked as she sat down. She wrapped her legs around the railing and leaned against the warm metal. She couldn't explain it but at that moment she felt so carelessly happy, so blissful and lighthearted and wondered if it was the food or the company that was making her feel that way. If they never got to Fuerteventura she wouldn't complain. They could float this like forever, on a beautiful blue ocean, eating delicious food and making friends with whatever sea creatures decided to swim by and say hello. Elizabeta took a drink from the bottle and fell back onto the deck. There was hardly a cloud in the sky and the sun was directly overhead. She pulled her sunglasses down on her face and lay there until she heard approaching footsteps. She opened her eyes and saw Antonio smiling down at her. She smiled back and lifted up the bottle of wine.

"Drink?" she asked

"I would love to," Antonio said as he took the bottle from her.

"Sit, please," Elizabeta said, pulling herself up.

"Gilbert said we'll be arriving in less than half an hour," Antonio said as he sat down besides her. He took a short sip from the bottle and passed it back to her. "I haven't been to Fuerteventura since I was a kid. It will be nice to see it again. I'm actually just glad to be back in Spain. I think I was away for too long."

"What was your favorite place to visit?" Elizabeta asked.

Antonio looked pensive for a few seconds before answering, "I would say Parma. It was where everything started. And I've always loved Italy. It's a beautiful country, but of course you know this. You said you were in Venice, right?"

Elizabeta absentmindedly picked at the label on the wine bottle. "Yes. It was lovely," she said quietly.

"My only regret was not being able to travel to south Italy. I've always wanted to go to Sicily, particularly Palermo," Antonio said.

The bottle slipped from Elizabeta's hands and she only barely grabbed it before it spilled onto the white deck. All the pleasure of the day seemed to evaporate instantly but then she was furious at herself. Why was she still carrying these feelings, these memories with her? Why was she letting them bring her down and ruin her happiness? Why couldn't she just let go? Because of a promise? Or was there more to it than that? Elizabeta shook her head to clear her thoughts and focused back on what Antonio was saying.

"If I had to choose a second favorite place, I think it would be London because I hated it so much at first, with it's gray skies and stuffy people, but when it came time to leave, I didn't want to go. It's the type of place that you can't really forget about, not because it was especially wonderful—Paris was much more glamorous and even Cape Town was more interesting—but because there's something about it that stays with you. I'm probably not making much sense."

Elizabeta ripped the rest of the label off the bottle. It made a terrible sound. "You're making perfect sense. We all have places, people, we can't let go but it's best that we do. You can't focus on the future if you keep letting the past bring you down." She crumpled the label in her hand and let it drop onto the deck. She turned to Antonio, who was watching her with an even look. "Would you like to go dancing tomorrow?" she asked. "There's a place not too far from our villa that has themed nights and it looks very fun. I don't know how to dance, really, but I thought, if you were interested we could go together."

Antonio smiled. She was really beginning to like his smile. "I would love to go dancing with you," he said.

Elizabeta felt a wave of happiness wash all over her.

Antonio turned to the water. "That turtle is really keeping up with us."

Elizabeta laughed. "He's very determined to catch up," she said. "He doesn't seem like the type to give up."

* * *

Elizabeta waited until the next evening to tell Gilbert about her plans. She expected him to be upset, angry even, but he only shrugged and told her to have fun.

Elizabeta stared at him in surprise. "That's it? 'Have fun?' You're not going to ask to come along or yell at me for ditching you?"

"Is that really the kind of person you see me as, Liz?" Gilbert said. He was seated on the couch flipping through TV channels. "We came to Spain to have fun and that's what we've been having, even though I nearly killed myself on those sand dunes yesterday. You've kept your promise to me and haven't gone chasing after some loser. You've finally let yourself have some real fun. Honestly, I'm proud of you. And if you're going to go dancing with anyone, I'm glad it's Antonio. He's a cool guy, don't rip his head off. Anyway, I don't I do themed dancing. What's tonight, salsa?"

"Tango," Elizabeta said.

Gilbert grinned. "And can you tango?"

"Well…no. But Antonio promised to teach me."

Gilbert grinned wider. "Maybe I should come along after all. This could be fun to watch. What are you even going to wear?"

Elizabeta shrugged. Gilbert sighed.

"You're hopeless. Bring me your bags. There has to be something in there," he said.

Elizabeta went to her room and came back downstairs with her suitcases and carryon bag. Gilbert dumped the contents onto the floor and began picking through her clothes.

"Too casual, too plain, boring—what are you, a nun?—I think my great Aunt has this skirt…What do we have here?" Gilbert picked up a rumpled, but still beautiful wine-colored dress that Elizabeta recognized immediately. "I didn't know you still had this," he said quietly.

Elizabeta shrugged again. "I've been meaning to throw it away but I kept forgetting," she said impassively.

Gilbert examined the dress. "It still in good shape, you can still wear it. Probably just needs a good dry-cleaning—"

"No," Elizabeta said, her voice suddenly loud. "I don't want to keep it. I hate that dress. I hated it the second I saw it. I never wanted her to buy it!" She reached over and took it from Gilbert. "Enough is enough." Her fingers tightened on the fine material until the sharp sound of ripping fabric filled the room.

"What the hell are you doing?" Gilbert yelled. He reached for the dress but she pulled it away. "You can't destroy it!"

"Yes I can and that's exactly what I'm going to do! I'm going to rip it to pieces and then throw it away. And then I'm going to forget all about that stupid, stupid party and I'm going to forget about Italy and Venice and Feliciano and then I'm going to forget about Alessandro and then…and then I'm going to forget about Lovino. I'm done waiting for a phone call that's never going to come! I'm tired of thinking about someone I'm never going to see again!" Elizabeta's shoulders fell and she loosened her grip on the dress. "One message, one little message and I would have been fine. Just to know that everything was going to be alright," she said softly.

Gilbert pulled himself closer to her. "Liz—Elizabeta, listen. I've been trying to tell you something for the past few weeks. It's not that Lovino didn't care—"

"That's the thing Gilbert, he didn't," Elizabeta said harshly. "Because if he did he would have sent me something. Anything…"

"Can you just listen for two seconds? There's something that you need to know."

Elizabeta shook her head. "Whatever it is, it doesn't matter." She took a deep breath and then ripped the dress cleanly in half. "It doesn't matter anymore."

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.

.

Antonio picked her up at nine. He gave her a single red rose and told her that she looked lovely. Then he took her arm and they both stepped into the warm night. The dance club was less than a ten minute walk away and they were in no hurry. When they finally arrived, there were more people there than Elizabeta had anticipated. Antonio led her to a quieter corner and the teaching began. While other couples twirled around them, she winced and apologized every time she stepped on his toes but he only smiled and told her that she was perfect, that she was lovely and everything was fine. When the club finally closed at 3 a.m. they were the last ones there. The manager took pity on them and had the last song replayed and Elizabeta didn't mess up once and when Antonio dipped her at the end, the manager and the two doormen clapped and she felt like she had just given the best performance of her life. Once they were back outside, Elizabeta pealed her shoes off her aching feet.

"If I take another step in them I'll fall over," she said. She let out a sigh of relief as she pulled off the second shoe, relishing the feel of the cool ground beneath her feet.

"I don't think this is the best place to go barefoot," Antonio said. "There are broken bottles everywhere and you could step on glass."

Elizabeta only smiled and took his hand. He twirled her until she was dizzy and then picked her up and spun them both round and round until she was screaming with laughter.

"Put me down! Put me down!" she said, but he refused and although she begged him to put her down, it was the last thing she wanted.

He carried her all the way to the front door the villa where he finally set her down so that she could unlock the door. Still giggling, she pulled him inside the dark house. She had expected Gilbert to be long gone so she was surprised to find him sleeping on the couch in the den. They tiptoed past him to the kitchen. Elizabeta grabbed two beers from the fridge and then led Antonio out onto the deck. They sat on the edge of the pool and let their feet dangle in the water.

Elizabeta twisted the cap off her bottle and took a quick drink. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you, about my trip, but before I do, let's take a picture. I don't ever want to forget this night." She set down her drink, stood up and went to the deck table, where she pulled her camera from her purse. "I still haven't changed the memory card but there should be one picture left." She sat back down on the edge of the pool and held up the camera but, when she tried to take the picture, there only came a beeping sound. She turned the camera around and saw that the memory was full. "What the—I could have sworn there was one picture left. I bet Gilbert took another one of himself." Quickly, she flipped through the pictures. She stopped when she came to the one of her and Lovino. She pressed the delete button.

_Are you sure you want to delete this image?_ The camera screen asked.

Was she sure? Was she ready to throw this last memory away? Before she could decide, her cell phone rang from the table. She sighed and handed the camera to Antonio.

"It's probably my mother," she said. "She's been trying to get me to come home and visit for weeks. She's more than a little worried about me going off into the big bad world and won't stop sending me messages."

Antonio laughed. "I can understand that. Mine called me every day for ten years."

The phone was on it's fourth ring as Elizabeta hurried over to the table. She answered it without checking the number.

"Look mum, I love you but you can't keep—"

"What the fuck? It's not your mother, it's me."

Elizabeta gasped and nearly dropped the phone. Time came crashing to a stop and the only thing she could hear was the pounding of her own heart. It seemed hours before she found her voice.

"L-Lovino?"

* * *

_June 18__th_

_Dear Elizabeta,_

_I'm glad that you are enjoying yourself but I caution you against spending too much money. I've heard the prices of goods on those islands are ridiculous. It's very upsetting to hear that you injured yourself. What sort of accident was it and why was Beilschmidt not around to stop it when it happened? Perhaps I should write to him and advise him to take better care of you. _

_I appreciate good photography as much as good music so I looking forward to seeing all of your pictures. _

_The festival will be ending in another week and although I'm sad to see end, I cannot help but be happy to be able to return to Vienna once more. As they say, home is where the heart is._

_Stay safe,_

_Roderich_

_p.s- You must be mistaken. He has all the mannerisms of an Austrian. _

* * *

**A/N: **I can understand that some of you might wish me bodily harm with such an ending like that but I beg that you keep back your pitchforks and torches, at least for now. I'm going to work very hard to get the next chapter up sometime in the next two weeks so please don't hate me too much ;A;

_-_with love

dancer_  
_


	9. Spain: Day 46 - 53

**A/N: **I wrote the last 1/3 of this chapter while basically listening to Mozart's Requiem on repeat. Most intense hours of my life. I kept thinking the world was going to end.**  
**

Anyway, I just missed the two week mark by like 12 hours but you guys should know that I was kicking ass and taking names to finish this before my fall semester of school started. And I finished comfortably ahead of that deadline /yay. Thanks for all the wonderful feedback for last chapter and I'm terribly sorry about the evil cliffy. So here is the resolution! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

* * *

_Spain**:**_

_Day 46 - 53_

_June 20th_

_Dear Roderich,_

_I have the most amazing news for you! You remember Lovino, the guy I ran down to Palermo to save? After weeks and weeks of waiting he finally called! I nearly flipped with joy when he called but I was still so angry at him for making me worry like that. He's actually here with us on the islands now and I can't remember the last time I was so happy. I really am happy to see him again. Gilbert is having another party on his boat tonight. Cross your fingers that I don't fail overboard again! We'll be in Paris in two days so use the address at the bottom of the page for your next letter.  
_

_**-**Elizabeta_

_p.s- Wiki said he was German :O**  
**_

* * *

"L-Lovino? Is it really you?"

Elizabeta felt as if she were in a dream. She had waited so long for this but couldn't believe it was actually happening. She didn't know whether to cry or scream but knew that an emotional rollercoaster was about to slam right into her.

"What a dumb question. Of course it's me," was the snappy reply that confirmed that it truly was him.

"But, but…how?"

Lovino scoffed. "What, did you think I was dead? Given up on me already?"

If Elizabeta hadn't been in such shock she would have noticed the hurt he tried, but failed, to keep out of his voice.

"O-Of course not! But you never called! I never received anything from you!" She was suddenly angry. "You…you damn…jerk! Do you know what I've been through these past few weeks? What the hell is wrong with you? I was worried sick and I had half a mind to run back to Palermo and drag your ass out of there! The least you could have done was let me know that you were alright!"

"Calm down. Why the hell are you always so loud? And I'm calling you now, happy?"

"No because you should have done this weeks ago!"

"Fine then, maybe I'll just hang up."

"Don't you dare or I will come after you and hunt you down and I will find you, don't think I won't!"

"Nice to know that you're still as crazy as ever," Lovino said dryly. His tone became serious. "Look, I didn't call to chat or argue. I need you to do something for me."

Elizabeta snorted. "Well isn't that rich? You finally call and the first thing you do is ask for my help," she said.

"I-I'm not asking for help!" Lovino said quickly. "As if I need help! I'm asking for…your cooperation. I'm, uh, in a bad spot at the moment. Things have taken a turn for the worst over here."

The slight fear and desperation in his voice instantly caused Elizabeta to forget her anger. "What happened? Are you alright? Where are you?" she asked apprehensively.

"One question at a time!" Lovino huffed. "I'm fine but all my plans fell apart. The only people I could trust are dead. I can't tell you where I am but in less than ten hours I'll be out of Sicily and I fucking hate having to do this but I don't have anywhere else to go and—"

"Yes," Elizabeta said.

This caught Lovino by surprise. "Wha-what? You don't even know what I was going to say!"

Elizabeta smiled. "I do and my answer is yes. Don't think I'm not still angry with you because I am but if you need a place to stay I will never say no."

"Are you serious?" Lovino asked quietly.

"Of course! Do you know how much I regretted leaving you in that city in the first place? What I've wanted most in these past few weeks is to see you again and now, to have that chance…you don't even know how happy I am."

"D-don't say such sappy things!" Lovino snapped and she could only guess that his face was bright red by now. "I'm not doing this because I want to but because I have no other options. The last thing I wanted was for you to get messed up in all the business with the family again."

Elizabeta giggled. "So you do care. That's so sweet of you to say," she said happily.

"Shut up! It's not sweet, it's serious! I know you'll just get in the way again. And don't start thinking that this is permanent or anything, because it's not. I'll probably be gone in a week."

Elizabeta decided that now wasn't the time to argue so she only said, "If you say so. Anyway, right now Gilbert and I are on the Canary Islands; he has a house on Tenerife. Will you and your brother be able to get here safely or should we meet you somewhere?"

"…Feliciano isn't coming," Lovino said quietly.

Elizabeta felt her blood run cold. Her voice shook slightly as she asked, "What do you mean he's not coming? Did something happen?"

"Yes and it's half my fault," Lovino murmured. "I sent that idiot north because I thought it would be safe when I should have kept him with me. He's in Munich, Germany right now and more or less trapped in that damn country."

Elizabeta finally let herself breathe. She had been thinking the worst. "What do you mean trapped?"

"I don't know how but the family found out about him and have installed their own patrols at the borders and major transport areas. If Feliciano even steps into an airport or train station, they'll catch him."

"They have that much power?" Elizabeta asked shocked.

"That's the problem, they're not supposed to," Lovino said, the frown in his voice clear. "Our influence doesn't stretch that far. We have international partners, yes, but never in Germany, which is why I thought it would be safe to send him there. I can't explain everything now and even if I could, I wouldn't—especially not to you. Just know that something—something bad—has happened and that's the reason I stayed in Palermo."

"So what are we going to do about Feliciano?"

"I don't know!" Lovino said angrily. "I can't get to him and he can't get to me! If he hadn't been such an idiot and had stayed away when I told him to all those times this never would have happened! We have no friends or family in Germany to take him in either."

"You don't," Elizabeta said, realization dawning on her, "but I do. Or should I say, Gilbert does. I'm going to put you on hold now Lovino, okay?"

Lovino sighed but said, "Whatever, just know that I don't have forever."

"And don't you dare hang up, or else."

"Yeah, yeah, I won't," Lovino grumbled.

Elizabeta pressed the hold button and let out a deep breath.

"That was quite the conversation. I didn't know you spoke Italian, and so well too."

She gasped and spun around. She had completely forgotten about Antonio. He was still sitting on the edge of the pool. He had a small smile on his face but she knew that even though he didn't understand the whole situation, he knew enough. The moment between them had ended and it was unlikely they would ever again be as they were that night.

"I'm so sorry Antonio. I never expected this to happen," she said sadly. "I've had an amazing time with you tonight but I can't ignore this. It—he—_they_ are too important to me. If you stay, I can explain everything but if you want to leave, I understand and won't hold it against you…"

"I'll stay," Antonio replied.

Elizabeta gave him a look of gratitude. "Thank you," she said before hurrying inside.

She ran to the den and shook Gilbert awake.

"Leave me alone Liz," he groaned, half asleep. "It's too early for you to piss me off."

"Wake the hell up," Elizabeta snapped. "This is important."

"So are the twelve hours of sleep I need," Gilbert muttered. He rolled away from her. "Go away."

Elizabeta straightened up and went to turn the lights on. Bright light illuminated the den and Gilbert howled and covered his face with his hands.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he yelled as he sat up.

"I told you, this is important!"

Gilbert lowered his hands and gave her a withering look. "It can't be that fucking important that it can't wait until morning."

Elizabeta held up her phone. "It's Lovino," she said.

Gilbert blinked but instead of being surprised, his expression turned to a look of concern. "Liz," he said slowly, "that's a phone."

Elizabeta smacked him with the phone.

"Are you fucking insane?" Gilbert yelled, clutching his head.

"Are you a fucking idiot?" Elizabeta shot back. "Lovino is on the fucking phone. As in, he _called_."

The look of anger faded and Gilbert's eyes grew wide. "Oh shit," he whispered. "Seriously?"

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm serious! Now listen up and listen up good. Lovino needs our help. The family found him and now he's getting out of Sicily but doesn't have anywhere else to go. I told him he could come here."

Gilbert struggled to put a sentence together and finally blurted out, "You told the guy being chased by _the Mafia_ to come _here_? To this house?"

"What else was I supposed to say? 'Hey, thanks for all the help in Palermo, you know saving my life and all, but I'm scared of the collateral damage you could cause so can you hide somewhere else?'" Elizabeta scowled. "Sorry, unlike you, I'm not a selfish asshole," she said acidly.

Gilbert opened his mouth to say something but she silenced him with a look.

She continued, "There's another issue to deal with: Feliciano. Lovino sent him to Munich because he thought he would be safe there but he was found out as well and is stuck in Germany. He doesn't know anyone in Germany who can take him in but _we_ do."

Gilbert narrowed his eyes. "Please tell me that you're not talking about my brother."

"Your brother is precisely who I'm talking about."

"No. Way."

Elizabeta gave him an incredulous look. "Really Gilbert? This is Feliciano!"

"I know, which is exactly why I don't want him staying with Ludwig. Why can't Lovino go to Berlin and Feliciano come here?"

Elizabeta groaned and was tempted to hit him with her phone again. "Don't you ever listen? I said he's stuck in Germany! If he even tries to leave then they'll find him. Berlin is his only option but Ludwig is you're brother and you need to be the one to tell him. I have Lovino on hold but I'm going to put him on speaker now. Tell him what he needs to do."

"What? Wait!" Gilbert started but Elizabeta had already pressed the button on her phone.

"Lovino?" she asked almost timidly, half-afraid that there would be no response.

"What the fuck took you so long? I was two seconds away from hanging up," Lovino snapped.

Elizabeta smiled and said, "Sorry about that. I have you on speaker. Gilbert's here and he's going to tell you what you need to do."

Lovino made a frustrated noise. "Did you have to bring that idiot into this?"

Gilbert grabbed the phone from Elizabeta. "Hey, this idiot is the only one who can save your ass right now so you better zip your filthy little mouth brat," he snarled into the mouthpiece.

"I dare you to say that to my face jackass!" Lovino shouted back.

"I will so shut up so I can tell you the address for this place. You and your brother might be twins but your shitty attitude makes you 90% less cute."

"I swear to God I'm going to shoot your balls off next time I see you."

Gilbert cackled. "I'd like to see you try. I'll wring your skinny little neck first."

Elizabeta chose this moment to enter the conversation.

"And I'm going to maim both of you with a frying pan if you don't stop arguing," she threatened sweetly. There was silence. "Now, Gilbert, tell him what he needs to know."

Gilbert grudgingly told Lovino the location and address of the villa.

"And what about my brother?" Lovino asked afterwards.

"My younger brother lives in Berlin. The only person I know with more security than him is my paranoid Swiss cousin. Feliciano would be safe there even if the Italian Army was after him."

"Is your brother anything like you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, if he is, then no thanks. Feliciano is an idiot on his own. I don't need him staying with another one."

"You sure know how to press your luck kid," Gilbert said darkly.

"Kid? I'm 23. What are you, three years older? Who the fuck are you calling kid? Damn moron."

"That's it, I'm hanging up." Gilbert began to close the phone and then gave a shriek of surprise as Elizabeta tackled him to the floor.

"Give me my phone back!" she screamed.

Gilbert attempted to shield himself from her angry blows. "Get off me, you she-devil!"

"What the hell are you two doing?" Lovino yelled.

"Gilbert, don't you dare hang up on him!" Elizabeta said. "And stop making him mad!"

"Stop slapping me! I'm actually trying to be nice! He's the one being a little snot!"

"I can still hear you," Lovino muttered annoyed.

After a few seconds of struggling, Elizabeta managed to wrestle her phone away from Gilbert.

"Listen Lovino," she said, slightly out of breath. "Ludwig is nothing like Gilbert. He's kind and sweet and caring—"

"You're only saying this because you have a crush on him. My brother's a dick," Gilbert commented from the floor.

Elizabeta blushed. "I do not! Shut your mouth!"

"Then explain why you were fawning all over him when we were—mmph!"

Having learned her lesson in Vienna, instead of covering Gilbert's mouth with her hand, Elizabeta grabbed a pillow from the couch he had been sleeping on and shoved it in his face.

"I'm sorry that Gilbert is being so obnoxious. His brother really is very sweet though. He's a good friend." She added, "_Just_ a good friend."

Lovino was silent for a few seconds and the only sound in the room was Gilbert thrashing angrily beneath the pillow.

Finally he asked, "Do you trust him?"

"With my life," Elizabeta answered.

"Then I'll have to take your word for it," Lovino said. "Not that I want to but because I don't have any other options at the moment."

"Great," Elizabeta said relieved. "Gilbert will tell you exactly how Feliciano can get there." She removed the pillow from Gilbert's face and he sat up gasping, his face bright red.

"I almost died there!" He informed her loudly.

She held up the phone. "How can Feliciano get from Munich to Berlin without using the trains?" she asked.

"And fast too," Lovino added.

"If this wasn't Feliciano we were talking about then I would tell you both to shove it, but that guy is too cute and sweet to get brutally murdered," Gilbert said. "The fastest way would be for me to call a car for him. We have offices in Munich and I can arrange for them to pick him up in a private car and drive him to Berlin."

"Are these cars bulletproof?" Lovino asked.

"Uh, if you want them to be," Gilbert replied.

"How soon can you set this up?"

"I can call them as soon as we're done talking but it might take a day or two to get everything arranged, depending on who's on holiday."

"Then do it and let them know how important this is."

Gilbert told Lovino where he should have his brother go when everything was ready and after making sure that everything would be done with the utmost secrecy, Lovino asked to speak to Elizabeta.

"In private, so tell the idiot to get the hell out of the room," he said.

Elizabeta shoved a protesting Gilbert out the door and then locked it behind him.

"How long do you think it will take you to get here?" she asked.

"A few days. If you don't see me or hear from me in a week then…" Lovino trailed off.

"I'll wait for you and I'm not leaving until you get here," Elizabeta said firmly.

"I…well, I guess I should say, uh, damn it! This is so annoying!"

Elizabeta had to smile at his frustration.

"I, I bet you're smiling right now—don't try and deny it! Remember what I said, this isn't permanent so don't get all stupidly happy! And, and…thanksforallyourhelpbye!" Lovino said the last bit so quickly that, by the time Elizabeta realized what he had said, all she heard was the dial tone.

She stared at her phone. "He hung up," she said quietly. "What a brat." But she was grinning widely as she said this, too happy to be annoyed. She lay down on the floor of the den, oblivious to Gilbert pounding on the door, demanding her to open up. She was thinking only of Lovino and what she would say to him when she next saw him. .

.

.

.

Elizabeta spent the next three days waiting. She kept her word and told Antonio as much as she could about her trip, purposely leaving out select parts. She said only that Lovino was in trouble and needed her help. Nothing about the family or Alessandro passed her lips.

"I had everything perfectly planned out but somehow it all ended up completely different," she said. "I was never supposed to go to Berlin. Meeting Feliciano was an accident. I ran off to Sicily without a second thought. The two weeks I was going to spend with Roderich turned into three days and then Vash called out of the blue and I ended up going to camp. I came to Tenerife to party and have fun but fell of a boat."

"And met me," Antonio said.

"And met you. Something else that I never expected to happen. The point is, so far this whole trip has been one surprise after the other. Many have been good, others I would rather forget, but, believe it or not, I have very little regrets." Elizabeta turned to face Antonio, his smile familiar and comforting. "It's like you said, some of the best things in life are the unexpected."

"How long do you plan to wait for your friend?" Antonio asked.

Elizabeta faced the ocean; it was big, blue and beautiful. Suddenly, she was seized with the urge to sink her toes into the warm sand but the sun was still yet to rise and she didn't want to walk along the beach in the dark.

"I'll wait as long as I have to," she replied.

"All because of a promise?"

Elizabeta kept her eyes on the water, afraid that they would betray her, that they would reveal something that she herself refused to believe."

"I always keep my promises," she said finally.

Antonio leaned against the railing of the balcony. Elizabeta stole a glance at him. His dark hair fluttered in the evening breeze, his face so content and at peace that her mind suddenly began to form the beginnings of a thought; a 'what if' that unfurled itself slowly but that she quickly snuffed out. It was meaningless to think such things anymore.

"I'll wait with you, if you would like," Antonio offered.

And she accepted because waiting was lonely business indeed.

.

.

.

On the third day Gilbert had had enough of her solemn mood and temporarily banished her from the house.

"You're even more depressing than usual to look at," he stated matter-of-factly. "Take your gray cloud and go outside. I'll call you when Antonio gets here."

Antonio was at work. The absence of his perpetually sunny self already made the day a little less colorful.

Sulking and dragging her feet, Elizabeta left the villa and decided to finally do what she had wanted to do two days earlier—walk along the beach. A severe weather warning had sent everyone scrambling inside and she took pleasure in her solitary trek across the sand. Grey clouds gathered in the distance. A storm was coming. At most, she had half an hour before she would be forced to flee back to the villa. Unsure how to spend this time, she knelt down in the sand and absentmindedly began to look for skipping stones. But the sand was too white, too soft, and such rocks had all been long removed by resort maintenance workers. Then her finger touched something smooth. She glanced down and saw a white rock; flat and perfect for skipping. She got to her feet with the rock clenched tightly in her hand and surveyed the darkening waters. She pulled back her arm and then let the rock fly, silently counting the number of times it bounced against the fluid surface.

One..two..three…four—her eyes widened—_five_. She had never gotten five skips before and this filled her with childish delight. She let out a cheer and jumped up and down, fists punching the air in celebration. Anyone who happened to peer outside their window at that moment would have seen only a possibly half-sane young woman jumping up and down at the lip of the ocean while a storm was brewing behind her. Elizabeta did not care how she appeared. When she finally settled down she was grinning widely even though the wind had picked up. The waves were climbing higher up the beach and she felt a little jolt as the water wrapped itself around her ankles.

She was turning back towards the direction of the villa, knowing that the time she had before the storm struck was quickly running out, when something caught her eye further down the beach. She focused and saw that it was a person, another brave, reckless individual such as herself, daring to run out in the hazardous weather. Concern kept Elizabeta from running back towards the villa despite a furious gust of wind that crashed into her, sending her brown hair into a flying frenzy above her head; concern for her fellow beach wanderer, who might be unaware of the storm warning, although the dark clouds and strong winds should have been enough to let them know that they were in a danger zone. She started towards them, the first words of a friendly warning on her lips, when she froze, not in fear of the rising waves or the first rumbling sound of thunder in the distance, but because something akin to déjà vu sent a shiver down her spine. She was gripped by the familiarity of the situation and wracked her brain to remember where, when, she had been like this. Into her mind floated the image of dirty windows and the black and white designs of a Sephora store; coffee stained blue cloth chairs; the cramped backseat of a taxi; unrelenting heat that drove her to lean forward in an attempt to seek relief; a lone figure rushing through traffic towards her. Except this time, he wasn't being pursued by anyone but the wind. Elizabeta didn't know she was running until she nearly tripped over a sly piece of driftwood.

"Lovino." The name slipped from her mouth and although it was lost in the roaring wind, he must have heard it, somehow, because he slowed down suddenly and looked up and she was close enough to see his green eyes widen.

She meant to stop but her legs, which had started on their own, were unaware of this and she heard him swear as they collided and fell down on the wet sand together, just as a large wave descended onto the beach, soaking them both. When they sat up, he was spitting water and curses and she was dazed and smiling. Over the past three days she had imagined what she would say to him when they were reunited but all practiced speeches vanished so she did the first thing that came to mind, a reminder of what he had given to her when they had parted. He turned bright red.

.

.

.

Gilbert wasn't surprised when they ran into the villa dripping wet and only said, smirking, "Fall into another river again?"

Lovino replied with a scowl. Elizabeta stepped in before the yelling could start.

"I'm going to get us some towels," she said, smiling. She couldn't stop smiling. "Did Antonio call? We could really use some of his food now."

"Yeah, actually and he said he wouldn't be able to make it because he has to work overtime." Gilbert glanced out the rain-splattered window. "Not that he could come in this weather anyway. I'm surprised you two didn't get carried out to sea."

"We nearly did," Lovino muttered.

"And he speaks," Gilbert said grinning. "I'll be honest, it's nice to see that you're not dead."

"And it's nice to see that you're still a moron," Lovino replied bluntly.

Gilbert's eye twitched. "Just be happy that Elizabeta is here or I would—"

Lovino cut him off. "You would what, sneer at me? Call me names?" He turned away from Gilbert, who was glaring daggers at him, to face Elizabeta. "I'm making a puddle on the floor and I'm freezing. Where are those towels you were talking about?"

"Follow me, I'll show you," Elizabeta said happily. They left Gilbert grumbling in the kitchen and headed up the stairs. "You can also pick your room. There's plenty to choose from."

"That moron really owns this whole place?" Lovino asked when they reached the landing at the top of the stairs.

"Believe it or not, yes. His grandfather left it to him, which is why it doesn't really come off as his style."

"I didn't know he had one," Lovino said quietly. He peeked into one of the empty rooms. "I guess it's a nice enough place though. Not that I want to be here…"

"Any word from Feliciano?" Elizabeta asked. She knew she sounded too happy.

Lovino nodded. "He should be getting picked up tomorrow morning. Finally. It fucking took long enough."

"I'm glad everything worked out. I think he and Ludwig will get along well."

"He better take good care of Feliciano," Lovino said. He left out the 'or else' but it was clear what he meant.

"You don't have to worry about that," Elizabeta said when they arrived at the large, handsome armoire at the end of the long hallway. She pulled it open and saw to her dismay that the towels were on the top shelf. Even when she stood on her tiptoes, her fingers only brushed against the soft material. She grabbed the sides of the armoire and was about to start climbing when an arm reached over her and grabbed two white towels.

"Don't do stupid things like that," Lovino said in her ear and she felt herself blush. "What if the whole thing fell on you? I would only have that idiot for company."

Elizabeta turned around and hoped her face wasn't too red. "Sorry," she said.

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "What for?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"You're so weird sometimes," Lovino said but not meanly. He handed her one of the towels but she didn't take it from him.

"Why didn't you ever call?" she asked suddenly. Up until that point, they had purposely been making small talk but her cheerful façade was now slipping.

Lovino faltered. "I called you right before I came here, remember?" he said casually.

"That's not what I'm talking about!" Elizabeta snapped, no longer able to keep her anger in check. "Couldn't you even have texted me so I knew you were alive?" Her voice was growing louder. "After everything we had been through together did you just expect me to forget and move on?"

"Yes, actually I did," Lovino said straightforwardly. "Only an idiot would keep thinking about what happened."

"Then I'm an idiot!" Elizabeta shouted. "And you're an idiot for thinking it would be that easy! I worried about you so much that I thought I would go crazy."

"I think you are crazy."

She pinched him.

"What the fuck? This again?" Lovino said angrily as he rubbed his arm. He flinched as Elizabeta pointed a finger at him.

"Don't you ever do that to me again Lovino Vargas! When I call I don't want an automated voice that tells me that the number doesn't exist. Don't," her voice cracked and her throat felt tight, "don't run off again to places I can't follow."

She grabbed the towel from his hands and marched past him. "Pick whatever room you want," she said not turning around. She paused at the edge of the stairs. "And I'm happy to see you again," she said so quietly that he almost did hear. Then she stomped down the stairs, complaining loudly about how inconsiderate and thoughtless some people could be.

Lovino stayed where he was, the towel clutched in his hands. Part of him wanted to go after her and apologize, but the other part said that was stupid and he didn't owe her anything. He had done what he had because he had thought it was the best for both of them. If she was too thick-headed to understand, it was her problem.

Lovino threw the towel over his head and went to go find his room.

* * *

Elizabeta woke up early the next morning. She slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the room Lovino had chosen. She opened the door slowly and peeked inside. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the bed was empty. Quickly, she hurried downstairs, mentally screaming at herself that she had known something like this might happen and had done nothing to stop it except yell. She heard someone moving around in the kitchen and wondered what had gotten Gilbert out of bed so early. Whatever it was, it worked in her favor.

"Gilbert, I need your help," she said as she burst into the kitchen. "Lovino is—" Lovino poked his head out from the behind the open door of the refrigerator. She gaped at him. "You're still here!" she said excitedly, full of relief.

He scowled at her and said, "Of course I'm still here. I already told you that I have nowhere else to go—thanks for reminding me, jerk. What, do you want to me out already?"

She shook her head. "No! I was…I was," she blushed, now feeling foolish for her earlier thoughts. "Forget it. I'm just glad to see you. Sorry that I sort of lost it yesterday. I shouldn't have yelled but I meant every word I said. Please don't just run off again and if you do, would it kill you to keep in touch?"

"…whatever," Lovino said. Whatever. It was his favorite of the American slang he had picked up during the long holidays he had spent in that country with his brother and grandfather. It was so short, so simple and with it he could leave everything he couldn't say unsaid.

Elizabeta smiled and this annoyed him because she always seemed to carelessly happy and seeing her like that made him want to smile. Instead, he said sulkily, "There's nothing in this damn fridge except beer. How the hell can you live off this stuff?"

Elizabeta laughed. That irritated him too.

"That's actually Gilbert's stuff. Neither of us really knows how to cook and we were eating out until we met Antonio," she said. "He's an amazing chef."

Lovino instantly felt dislike for this Antonio. "Well, good for him. But not good for me. I'm hungry."

"You sound like one of the kids I used to babysit," Elizabeta said amused. "It's kind of early so I don't know what's open but we can check around the city."

They both looked up at the sound of the front door opening. Seconds later, Antonio walked into the kitchen, his hands full of grocery bags.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully as he set the bags on the counter.

"Thank God," Lovino said. "It's the help."

Elizabeta laughed again. "No, this is Antonio. He's a friend." She turned to Antonio, who was taking items out of the bag. "You're early today," she said.

"I was going to surprise you and Gilbert with breakfast, as an apology for not being able to make it yesterday," he said. "Thanks for the extra key by the way."

"Are you kidding? There was practically a tsunami outside yesterday," Elizabeta said. "I would have been angry if you _had_ come. Sorry about ruining the surprise but at least I can help you out now. As for the key, no problem. Feel free to come here anytime you want. What did you get?" She poked through some of the bags. "Oh wow, this all looks great! And so fresh!"

"I know. Some of the stores lost power yesterday and I was afraid the produce would have been ruined but I was in luck. Thank goodness for backup generators."

"So what's on the menu this morning?" Elizabeta asked.

"I'm still here and still hungry," Lovino said loudly, annoyed at being forgotten.

"Oh gosh, I'm so silly! I can't believe I didn't tell you earlier," Elizabeta said giddily. "Antonio, this is Lovino. He arrived last night."

Antonio smiled. "That's great." He turned to Lovino. "Elizabeta has told me how important you are to her and I've been waiting with her for you. I'm glad you arrived safely. It's nice to meet you." He held out it hand but Lovino only glared at it.

"I don't shake hands with morons," he said finally.

"You're so mean Lovino!" Elizabeta said, half teasing.

Lovino swung the door the fridge shut. "I don't really give a fuck. You can guys can put on stupid frilly aprons and cook. I'm out of here."

He pushed past Gilbert, who had just wandered, still half-asleep, into the kitchen.

"I heard breakfast," Gilbert yawned. The floor door slammed. "And what's with him?"

Elizabeta sighed. "I'll go talk to him."

She hurried back to her room and changed into long pants, a t-shirt and a light jacket. The heavy rain had been followed by cooler temperatures, which was a relief after a week of scorching sun.

Although he had about ten minutes on her, Lovino didn't know the city—Elizabeta herself could barely find her way around—so it was unlikely that he had gotten too far. As she searched, she took stock of the damage caused by the storm, which was surprisingly minimal. A few trees had been knocked down but there did not appear to be any casualties or serious property damage. A group of women walked past her, chatting animatedly about the strange weather. She wandered up and down the main street and knew she was lost when she passed the same store twice. Berlin was understandable, but she had thought Adeje too small of a city to get lost in. Elizabeta was about to ask for directions when she saw across the street an advertisement for a bike tour through the Central Park of Arona. Arona was a municipality only a few minutes away by car. She didn't know why but she found herself crossing the street to get a better look at the ad. After reading it carefully, she pulled out her phone and called for a taxi. Twenty minutes later, she was being driven down the superhighway. Being the third largest city on Tenerife, she wasn't surprised to see the large, sprawling resorts that lined the streets of Arona when she arrived. The kind, elderly man who had driven her offered to wait but she sent him on his way with a smile and a large tip. She didn't know how long she would be there. The public park was located at Playa de las Américas, a holiday resort in the northern part of the city. Already it was full of tourists, despite the early hour and cooler temperature. She walked slowly along the paved walkways of the park. She didn't know where she was going but she didn't really care. Lining the path were tamarind and macadamia trees. She was suddenly taken back to the botanical gardens of Gran Canaria and felt a sense of peace as she passed the towering palm trees and the wondrous dragon tree, which she found to be oddly, yet somehow properly named. She walked around the park for half an hour before she found Lovino. He was sitting on a park bench, glaring. When he saw her, instead of running away or yelling at her for following him, he only sighed and moved over so that she could sit.

"I'm not even going to ask how you found me," he muttered when she sat down.

"It was a hunch really. This park is 42,000 square meters; the perfect place to lose yourself, or, I suppose, to hide," she said with a small smile. "Still, it was really lucky that I found you. Why did run off like that?"

Lovino crossed his arms and didn't answer.

His childish, spoiled attitude annoyed her but she only said, "Antonio was just trying to be nice. If he offended you in any way, it wasn't his intention."

"He didn't offend me," Lovino blurted out. "It's just, well," he blushed, "you two seemed to be having so much fun talking about stupid produce and clearly didn't care whether I was there or not that I thought that I might as well go. What's the deal with that guy anyway? How did you even meet?"

"It's a weird story. I fell off Gilbert's boat and he saved me. He's been great company for the past week. He took us around the islands and can make all this delicious food."

"He's sounds fucking wonderful," Lovino said dryly. "Maybe I should just go back to Palermo because it sounds like you're having so much fun together. I wouldn't want to intrude with my shitty attitude."

"If you go back to that city I'll personally bring you back myself," Elizabeta said seriously. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you. When I saw you yesterday, I thought I would die because I was so happy."

Lovino rolled his eyes but his face was still red. "Stop it. Why do you always have to get so emotional?"

"Why do you always have to get so sarcastic?" Elizabeta shot back. "What were you doing walking around in that weather anyway?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Lovino replied.

Elizabeta smirked. "Were you so excited to see me that you decided to brave the terrible storm?"

"Y-You wish!" Lovino snapped.

She laughed. "I had forgotten how red you can get! Like a tomato!"

Lovino stood up from his seat. "This is why I didn't even want to see you again! You're so annoying."

"I was just teasing," Elizabeta said. "You don't have to take everything so seriously."

She was still smiling but there was hurt in her eyes. Lovino instantly regretted his words.

"W-Well that's just how I am," Lovino struggled to get the next words out. "A-And I misspoke. You're, you're not annoying, just kind of loud and nosy. A little crazy too. And…it isn't half terrible seeing you again." He turned around so Elizabeta wouldn't make fun of his face. "I'm going to see the rest of this place. You can come along if you want but it doesn't matter to me ." He started walking down the path and Elizabeta quickly ran after him.

"This place is really pretty," she said. "I'm glad you chose to run away here."

"I didn't run away!" Lovino said quickly. "I just needed some air."

"I bet they're all wondering where we are…"

"Let them wonder. Morons. And I'm still hungry."

"I'm sure we can find a place to eat around here."

They were walking so close that when Lovino glanced down he saw that he could easily grab her hand. He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

.

.

.

When they arrived back at the villa later that day, they found Gilbert and Antonio in the TV room, watching football on—in Elizabeta's opinion—the obnoxiously large flat screen. They might as well have been in a movie theatre.

"You guys were gone for a long time," Antonio said as they walked in.

"Yeah Liz, where'd you two run off to?" Gilbert commented, not looking away from the screen. "You missed breakfast." He snickered. "Did you fall into another river again?"

"We went for a walk," Elizabeta said.

"That's another terrible euphemism," Gilbert said. His phone rang before Elizabeta could reply. He took one look at the call I.D. and blanched. "Fuck, it's West. Shit." He leapt off the couch and ran to Elizabeta. "You answer it," he said, pressing the phone into her hands. Then he ran out of the room.

"Is Gilbert alright?" Antonio asked.

"He probably did something stupid," Lovino said frankly.

Elizabeta shrugged and pushed the call button on the phone. "Hel—?"

"What the hell have you done now?" Ludwig roared in her ear.

She winced and held the phone away.

"I guess I was right," Lovino said.

"Don't you dare act like you're not there Gilbert," Ludwig continued angrily. "I can hear you breathing."

Elizabeta moved the phone back to her ear and said, "Ludwig, it's me."

There was a pause and then, "E-Elizabeta? Why do you have my brother's phone?"

She laughed. "When he saw you were calling he gave it to me and ran out of the room."

"Damn him," Ludwig growled.

"What did he do this time?" she asked.

Ludwig sighed. "I don't even know where to start." There was the sound of crash in the background. "I told you not to touch that!" Ludwig yelled.

Elizabeta winced again. "Is there something wrong?"

"I would appreciate it if you would put my brother on the phone. He has some explaining to do," Ludwig answered.

"I'll see if I can find him," she said as she left the TV room. "How have you been? I've been meaning to call but it is amazing how time can get away from you."

Gilbert wasn't hiding in the kitchen or outside on the deck.

"It's no problem," Ludwig said. "I've been busy myself. How goes your trip? I heard you visited Vash?"

"Yes and thank you so very much for that wonderful recommendation. It was very sweet of you to say that about me."

"I-I was just telling the truth," Ludwig said quietly.

Elizabeta smiled as she walked up the stairs. "Well thank you for doing so. And the trip has been…interesting to say the least."

"Have you made much progress?"

"I wouldn't call it progress exactly." Elizabeta pushed open the door to Gilbert's room. The bed was unoccupied. She flung open the closet but only found clothes. "But I've definitely met some interesting people."

There was another crash in the background.

"I already said, do not touch anything!" Ludwig yelled.

"It sounds like you're having a tough time over there," Elizabeta said. She quickly checked the other rooms and found them all empty.

"And it's all my brother's fault," Ludwig said angrily. "I can't believe he did this to me. Have you found him yet?"

"I'm looking but this is a very big house with too many rooms. He could be anywhere. Wait, I might know where he is." Elizabeta hurried down the stairs and then half ran, half slid down the hallway.

"Please find him quickly," Ludwig said.

She was surprised that he didn't lock the door of the study. When she opened the door, Gilbert screamed and dived underneath the sleeper sofa.

"I knew it," Elizabeta said. "I found him Ludwig. Hold on, I'll get him for you."

She set the phone down on the table and then got down on her hands and knees in front of the couch. She reached under, grabbed Gilbert's leg and pulled.

"Let me go Liz!" he shrieked as she slowly began dragging him out.

"I don't think so," she said with effort. "What have you done to your brother this time?"

Gilbert kicked at her but she held on tightly and continued to pull him out from beneath the couch.

"I didn't do anything!"

"Then why are you hiding?"

"I just don't want to talk to him, okay?"

"Oh, you're going to talk to him."

Elizabeta dragged him out and then continued to the table. He tried to crawl away but she stopped him with a foot on his back.

She picked up his phone and said sweetly, "Here's Gilbert. You don't mind if I put it on speaker, do you? He's really putting up a fight."

"If it can't be helped, then no. You'll have to excuse my language though."

"I'm sure I've heard much worse," Elizabeta said before she pressed the speaker button. "You're on speaker."

"Gilbert?" Ludwig asked almost softly.

"Oh shit," Gilbert whispered. "H-Hey West. How's the busine—"

"What the hell were you thinking?" Ludwig yelled. "Do you know what you've done?"

"It was the sound system!" Gilbert blurted out. "I swear I wouldn't have bought the yacht if it didn't have surround sound!"

"I'm not talking about your damn boat! I'm talking about the Italian guy I found on my doorstep this afternoon who said that _you_ had sent him here."

Elizabeta gasped. "You mean Feliciano? He's there?"

Ludwig faltered. "W-What? You know him too Elizabeta?"

"He's a good friend but I don't understand, I thought Gilbert told you he was coming." She glared down at Gilbert, who was shifting nervously beneath her foot. "You did call him, right?" she asked slowly.

"It…it might have slipped my mind," Gilbert admitted.

"How could you not have called him?" she yelled.

Gilbert flinched. "I forgot, okay? I'm sorry!"

"How could you forget to tell your brother that we were sending Feliciano to him? Are you an idiot?"

"Wait. Elizabeta, you knew about this too?" Ludwig asked disbelievingly.

"Yes and I'm sorry that you were surprised like this. I would have told you myself but I thought that it was Gilbert's right, as your brother, to let you know that we were sending our friend to stay with you."

"Just why in the world did you send him to me?"

"I can't tell you everything but he's in trouble and we needed to get him somewhere safe within Germany," Elizabeta said. "You were the only person we knew who would be able to help him. How is he?"

"He keeps touching things," Ludwig said, clearly irritated. "He's broken two irreplaceable items already and keeps asking for food. Elizabeta, I don't know if I can keep him. I have a business to run and overseas meetings to attend…"

"Please Ludwig, please," she begged. "He's very important to me. There are people after him who would hurt him and I wish I could help him myself but believe me when I say I have other problems to deal with here or else I would have booked the first flight back to Berlin. I know that you can do this. I have absolute faith in you. You're an amazing person. Please do this for us—for me. Please?"

There was a long silence and then she heard Ludwig sigh. "Okay. Fine. He can stay. But for how long?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know but as soon as I do, I'll let you know. Is he there? Can I speak to him?"

"He's been breathing down my neck this whole time," Ludwig muttered. "Hold on."

Elizabeta heard rustling in the background and then a crash and Ludwig screaming, "Did you just drop my phone? Do you know how much that cost? There's a crack in the screen! Don't cry, just talk!"

"Hello? Elizabeta?" said a soft voice in Italian.

"Feliciano? Oh God, you don't know how nice it is to hear your voice again," she said grinning widely.

"I want to talk to him!" Gilbert yelled from the floor.

Elizabeta ignored him. "How are you? How have you been? Are you hurt?" she asked quickly.

"I'm fine~," Feliciano said cheerfully. "My brother has been taking good care of me and it was really nice of him to have Gilbert set up the car ride for me. Germany is such a pretty country even though the food kind of tastes bad. How are you? Lovino said something bad happened in Palermo but wouldn't tell me everything. I'm sorry, I knew you shouldn't have gone down there."

Elizabeta was deeply touched by the concern in his voice. "I'm fine, it's you and you're brother that I've been worried about. I was so scared when I didn't hear from either of you."

"Liz, stop with the Italian! English! And let me talk to him!"

Elizabeta stepped harder on Gilbert's back and he grunted in pain.

"I wanted to call you but Lovino said that we shouldn't because then the family might find you. He said he couldn't bear anything happening to you."

Elizabeta felt her heart skip a beat. "He…he said that?" she asked softly.

"Mhmm. He was really worried about you and kept saying how it was his fault that you got hurt. He even said that he wished he had had a chance to properly apologize."

"That is a lie!"

Elizabeta turned around to see Lovino standing in the doorway, Antonio right behind him. His face was bright red.

"I never said that you fucking liar!" he yelled.

"Lovino? Is that you? Hi! I was just telling Elizabeta all the things you said about her," Feliciano continued happily, "And one time, he even said that's he's never met someone so simultaneously crazy and amaz—"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Lovino marched over and grabbed the phone from Elizabeta. "Shut your lying mouth Feliciano! I never said any of that!"

"But you did. I remember you did."

"No, you idiot, I didn't so stop making things up! And where the fuck are you calling from?"

"Berlin~! I'm at Gilbert's brother's nice big house and he even promised to make me dinner later. Isn't that great?"

"Fucking fabulous," Lovino said sarcastically. "Now let me talk to him."

"Okay, sure. Hold on."

There was more rustling, a crash and then suddenly there was only a dial tone.

Lovino stared at the phone. "I think that idiot just hung up on me." He groaned. "Why is my brother so stupid? Why?"

"That's not fair!" Gilbert complained. "I didn't even get to talk to him and of course you all had to start speaking in that crazy language again."

Elizabeta snapped out of her daze and glared down at him. "You keep quiet! I still can't believe you never called your brother!"

"I already said I forgot! People forget things!"

"Someone's calling," Lovino said. He held up the vibrating phone. "Who's Ludwig again?'

"That's Gilbert's brother. The one Feliciano is staying with," Elizabeta said. "Answer it and put it on speaker."

Lovino did so.

"Hello?" Ludwig said. He sounded exhausted. "Who's there?"

"It's me," Lovino said.

"Who are you?" Ludwig asked uncertainly.

"I'll be your biggest problem, you bastard, if anything happens to my brother."

"You're, uh, Lovino?" Ludwig asked.

Lovino narrowed his eyes. "So you know my name already? Trust Feliciano not to keep his mouth shut. Look here, I only agreed to send my brother to you because there were no other options at the time. You should know that I already don't like you."

"But you don't even know me…"

"It doesn't fucking matter. What does matter is my brother. If he even hints that you're not treating him well I will come up there and kick your ass, got it?"

"Uh, sure," Ludwig said weakly.

"Good." Lovino paused. "…what should I do now?"

"Can you give the phone to Gilbert?"

Lovino knelt down and held the phone in front of Gilbert's face. "Speak," he ordered.

"I'm here West," Gilbert grumbled.

"You're lucky that I have other things and now other people to deal with at the moment," Ludwig said. "We have a lot to discuss. I received an interesting letter in the mail this morning about the current state of your money. Or should I say, I received a letter about your lack of money. I'm calling you later and, if you don't want all of your accounts closed, you'll pick up."

Gilbert groaned. "I hate my life. Fine."

"Is Elizabeta still there? Tell her I said bye," Ludwig said.

"I'm here Ludwig," Elizabeta said. "Bye! Thanks again for taking care of Feliciano!"

"It's….no problem," Ludwig said heavily before hanging up.

"That was a really interesting conversation," Antonio piped up. "So many different languages at once."

"I never even got to speak to Feliciano," Gilbert moaned.

Elizabeta finally lifted her foot off his back. "You don't deserve to speak to him," she said coolly. "And don't you dare ignore Ludwig when he calls later."

Gilbert made a face. "I don't even have a choice. Didn't you hear? He's threatening to close my accounts."

"You actually deserve that," she said. "I told you buying the yacht was a bad idea."

"Don't act like you don't like it," Gilbert said as he got up from the floor. "I just have to convince West that it was worth it."

"Good luck," Elizabeta said wryly.

Gilbert ignored her. "Come on Antonio, let's go finish the rest of the game."

"I think England scored," Antonio said.

"No fucking way!" Gilbert said and ran out of the room, dragging Antonio after him.

Elizabeta realized that it was just her and Lovino left in the room and, for the first time, felt nervous in his presence. He still had Gilbert's phone and was casually going through it. He saw something that raised his eyebrows. Elizabeta was tempted to ask what but then he closed the phone and set it back down on the table.

"I'm going to my room," he said turning to go.

"Those, those things Feliciano was talking about," Elizabeta said timidly, causing him to pause, "did you actually say them?"

Lovino turned around and his face was blank. "I already said no."

It wasn't until after he was gone that Elizabeta realized that when he was lying, he developed a slight crease between his eyebrows. It was almost cute.

* * *

The following morning Gilbert decided that they were all going to Siam Park. Elizabeta was ecstatic. Lovino complained that he hated waterparks but still agreed to go. Surprisingly, Antonio had the day off. They packed their things, Lovino grudgingly bought a swimsuit and they walked to the bus stop. The ride to the park itself took only a few minutes and Elizabeta gave a small squeal of delight when she saw the grand, domed twin towers that stood on each side of the entrance. The line was already growing rapidly but thankfully, moved fast enough. When they reached the front there was a dispute over who was going to pay. Elizabeta said Gilbert should pay because it had been his idea. Gilbert said she should pay because he'd paid for lunch and dinner for the past week and a half. Antonio then said he would pay; Gilbert was delighted, but Elizabeta wouldn't let him. Lovino stood there, annoyed, waiting for them to finish arguing. Finally, they decided to split the cost. Gilbert paid for himself and Antonio, Elizabeta for herself and Lovino. Once inside, it was clear why Siam Park was often called the most spectacular water attraction in Europe. There were a variety of water slides including racing slides and a very tall slide called the Tower of Power, which reminded Elizabeta of the Leap of Faith at Atlantis Paradise Island, a resort in the Bahamas her parents had taken her a few years earlier. The park also featured the Mai Thai, the world's longest lazy river, and the Wave Palace, the world's largest man made wave pool. When they couldn't decide where to go first, they split up. Elizabeta, Gilbert and Antonio went to join the long line in front of the Tower of Power and Lovino took to the Mai Thai. They agreed to meet up again at one. Elizabeta wondered aloud if Lovino would be alright on his own but Gilbert only rolled his eyes and said,

"You're ridiculous Liz. And you say I'm oblivious."

He wouldn't tell her what he meant by this even when she threatened him.

It took them over an hour to reach the front of the line but it turned out to be worth the wait. The Tower of Power had an almost vertical 28 meter free fall drop and Elizabeta was screaming in glee the whole way down. The slide went through an underwater aquarium as a transparent tube and as she flew past, she saw sharks and stingrays swimming about. When she got to the end of the ride, her first thought was that she had to do that again before she left the park.

Gilbert was laughing when he finished and, before she could stop him, ran to get in line again. She called after him that he would probably be waiting up to two hours but he yelled that it didn't matter because he'd finally found a ride as awesome as himself. Elizabeta sighed as she watched him go but then turned her attention back to the slide exit, waiting for Antonio to emerge. He was grinning widely when he did and said he would love to go again but, unlike Gilbert, was going to wait for a while. Elizabeta was happy to hear this and suggested that they try out one of the racing slides. By the time one o'clock rolled around, she had beaten him twice and they had tied once. When they arrived at the Floating Market, which had been designed to look like a typical Thai village scene, she wasn't surprised to see that Gilbert wasn't there. Lovino arrived a few minutes later and the first words out of his mouth were that he was hungry. Elizabeta and Antonio went off to search for food and he stayed behind and wandered through the souvenir shop. While he was waiting, Gilbert finally showed up.

"Where are the other two?" he asked when he saw Lovino.

"Searching for food. Where have you been?"

Gilbert grinned. "Having the best time of my life. You missed out, scaredy-cat."

Lovino frowned. "I wasn't scared, I just didn't want to wait in that stupid line."

"I'm sure," Gilbert said.

They leaned against the wooden railing that went around all the shops.

"I found something interesting on your phone yesterday," Lovino said.

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "When did you have my phone?" he asked.

"When you left it to go watch football. You still have the text I sent you."

"Oh," was all Gilbert said. He glanced down at the murky water that surrounded the market, searching for any fish that might be swimming about.

"Did you show it to her?" Lovino asked. His voice was tight and angry.

"Of course not. I'll tell you the truth, I was going to but never really found the right moment to do so. Finally, I just gave up."

"Then why haven't you deleted the message?"

Gilbert shrugged. He didn't know the answer to that question.

"Delete it," Lovino said. "That's not a request."

"You should know that she was doing really well before you called," Gilbert said suddenly. "Last week was the first time in a long time that she was really happy. She spent a lot of time thinking about you and waiting for you to call and she was just about to move on."

Lovino was silent.

"I don't care what happens between you two as long as you don't hurt her. For some reason she seems to really like you, even if she doesn't realize just how much. She does a lot of things I don't even try to understand. Mostly I'm just saying don't fuck up."

At that moment, Antonio and Elizabeta came around the corner.

"Guys! We found food!" Elizabeta called. "Gilbert, you're paying!"

Gilbert pushed off the railing. "Remember what I said." He went over to greet them, leaving Lovino to mull over his words.

After lunch, they split up again. Gilbert and Antonio went to lounge on the lazy river and Elizabeta dragged Lovino to The Dragon. She couldn't help but laugh as he screamed and clung to her as they gathered speed and were then deposited into a giant cone. Their raft plunged to and fro and, at one point, they felt a sensation of zero gravity before they were washed down the hole in the center to the end of the ride.

"You can let go now," Elizabeta said grinning when they reached the end and Lovino was still squeezing her arm. "Unless you don't want to."

He pulled away immediately. "That was a dumb ride," he muttered.

"You had your eyes closed the whole time," she said as they climbed out of the raft.

"Did not. I want to go back to the Mai Thai."

"Let's go to the Wave Palace!" Elizabeta said excitedly. "I love wave pools. Please?"

She looked so eager and happy that Lovino found himself agreeing. He watched from Siam Beach as she fearlessly surfed the waves, some that went up to 3 meters high. Next to him, a group of teenage boys loudly admired her as well.

"Finally, someone who doesn't just paddle around. Now that's a girl who knows what she's doing," one boy said. He grinned widely, showing off his multi-colored braces.

"Plus, she's hot," another said. "There's nothing better than a hot girl who can surf."

His friend nudged him. "Maybe you should go congratulate her when she's done and get her number," he said with a wink.

"You're both fucking stupid," the last boy said. "As if she would go for either of you."

Laughing, his friends tackled him. "Cause you're such hot shit, right?"

They were unaware of the furious look Lovino was giving them as they tried to dunk each other. Elizabeta swam over a few minutes later.

"How was I?" she asked breathlessly.

Aware that the boys behind him had stopped laughing and were now watching the two of them intently, Lovino shrugged and said, "Not bad."

Elizabeta's face brightened. "Really? That was my first time on a surfboard. I kept thinking I was going to slide off. You should go next!"

"I'm not much of a surfer really," Lovino said.

"I'm sure you'd be great, but if you don't want to, we can go to the Mai Thai now."

"Sounds great," Lovino said. "Lead the way."

When he was sure she wasn't looking, he turned around and glared at the boys, half-tempted to flip them all off.

They spent the rest of the afternoon floating along the lazy river, Elizabeta chatting about whatever came to mind with Lovino half listening and answering yes or no where appropriate. He was utterly at peace on the river and felt it was only there that he could forget his fears and the dark thoughts that seemed to permanently occupy his mind.

Sometime later they bumped into Antonio and Gilbert, who announced proudly that he was having a party on his yacht later that night.

Elizabeta made a face. "Another one?"

"It will be totally different this time Liz. The dress code is formal and I'm cutting the number of guests to 100. Oh, and you're prohibited from going near the railings."

"I don't have anything 'formal'," Elizabeta said, remembering that she had ripped up her only dress that could fit the criteria.

"We'll buy something on the way back to the villa," Gilbert said. He turned to Lovino. "Of course you're invited as well and since I sincerely doubt you have anything formal, we'll get you something too."

"I never said I even wanted to attend your stupid party," Lovino said.

Gilbert smirked. "It wasn't a request."

Lovino scowled at him and Antonio and Elizabeta exchanged confused looks, wondering what they were missing.

They left the park just as the sun began to set. Elizabeta got to go on the Tower of Power one more time and agreed with Gilbert that it was better the second time. At the bus stop they were forced to part with Antonio, who received a call from his landlady that he said he couldn't ignore. He promised to attend Gilbert's party and waved them off smiling.

When they arrived back at the villa, Gilbert gave them only five minutes to change and dry their hair before ushering them out the door and into the taxi he had called earlier. They were driven to Plaza del Duque, a self-described ultra-modern shopping mall that featured a variety of high class stores. Elizabeta was extremely unenthusiastic about going dress shopping but let herself be dragged by Gilbert to an expensive looking store with a name that she saw and almost instantly forgot. She hated the feeling of déjà vu as her measurements were taken. The first dress the salesgirl brought out was a beautiful strapless dress but when Elizabeta saw the color was burgundy, she asked for it to be taken back. She would never be able to wear a dress in that color again. She also refused to wear anything green. As the third dress she rejected was taken away, she thought, slightly amused, that she must seem like a rich bitch—emphasis on the bitch. She finally settled on a purple dress that fell somewhere between lilac and lavender. She listened politely while the salesgirl went on about the details. It was a beaded one shoulder evening dress with a floor length skirt and embellished waistline. The designer had added a knee high slit to make the sweet dress just a little naughty. It was the last of its type in stock. Elizabeta said she would take it and then called Gilbert, who was searching for suits with Lovino, to tell him that she was ready. It had been his idea to host the party so he would naturally be footing the bill. Surprisingly, he paid without complaint. Elizabeta made sure to thank the salesgirl before she left and apologized for her earlier behavior. The girl blushed and said it was no problem at all. She usually worked with women who seemed to never have heard the words 'please' or 'thank you' in their lifetimes. Later, she told her colleagues that Elizabeta was the most charming customer she'd had in months.

It took another hour for Lovino to decide on a suit as the secret side of him that resembled an Italian fashionista reared it's ugly head. Eventually he made a decision and Gilbert paid for him as well. They were just leaving the mall when Gilbert's phone rang.

"It's Antonio," he said when he checked who was calling. He answered the phone with a cheery hello.

"Getting ready for the awesome party tonight?" He frowned. "What do you mean you can't make it?...Bullshit. That's bullshit…..Tell her she's a bitch...I don't care if she reminds you of your mum…..You can't just not come. Now Elizabeta doesn't have a date. Ouch!...Yeah, she just hit me. Now she's giving me the evil eye. Antonio, dude, I will be extremely upset if you can't make it….Do you want to me come over there?...You seriously don't have any other options?...I am very disappointed Antonio. Now I have to have another party for you to attend before I leave…..Well swing by the house tomorrow if you can….I'm sure Liz will understand. She's used to going to parties alone. Fuck! Okay, that actually really hurt!...Fine, I'll talk to you later. Bye." He shut his phone and put it back in his pocket. He glared at Elizabeta. "There was no need for violence."

She returned his glare. "Why can't Antonio make it?"

"His landlady is making a fuss. Something about rent and possible foreclosure. They're trying to work something out and he won't tell her to fuck off because she looks like his darling _Madre _and that would make him guilty. He'll said he'll just see us tomorrow."

"Possible foreclosure? That sounds serious," Elizabeta said.

"That's why I asked if he wanted me to come over but he said he would deal with it himself. I'm sure everything will be fine. Antonio has my awesome stamp of approval. He can get through anything."

Elizabeta still thought it would best to check up on their friend but Gilbert's mind had already moved onto the party that night.

"So many people to call, so little time," he said.

When they arrived back at the taxi, he opened the door for them but didn't get in himself.

"You two go back and make yourselves lovely—I know it's hard Liz but I believe in you—I still have a few things to pick up so I'll just see you on the yacht at nine."

Elizabeta gave him a warning before he closed the door. "You better spend wisely Gilbert or have you forgotten what your brother said?"

Ludwig had called as promised the previous evening and after an angry hour long 'discussion' had threatened to close all of Gilbert's accounts permanently if he had any more outstanding charges. On top of that, he would have Gilbert flown back home where he would be forced to work for the company until all his debt was paid off. Gilbert had hastily agreed to all his terms and conditions except for returning the yacht, which was impossible by then. He also refused to sell it and would not budge on the matter until Ludwig finally said he could keep it but would have to pay the insurance himself.

"Shows how much he knows," Gilbert had said to Elizabeta afterwards, "I didn't even get boater's insurance."

Elizabeta had been appalled. "Why do I get the feeling that's illegal? And, even if it not, it's still incredibly stupid of you not to have insurance. Do you even have a boater's license?"

He had scoffed. "Of course I do. I've been driving boats since I was 15."

When it was clear she didn't believe him, he showed it to her. She was surprised by this but had still been upset about his lack insurance.

Gilbert laughed and replied. "Don't worry Liz. I even brought my coupons—not really. I won't buy too much. I promise."

He shut the door of the taxi before she could say anymore.

.

.

.

"How is the world did you afford all of this?" Elizabeta asked when she arrived at the party later that night. After the first party she had expected something simpler but the large yacht had been lavishly decorated with white lights that stretched from bow to stern. Around her milled waiters and waitresses in black vests and bowties carrying trays of pricey champagne and shrimp cocktails. She could hear a piano and a string quartet playing below deck. The music floated through the speakers and the whole yacht was wrapped in the sound of Mozart's Andante. Black and white roses had been used to decorate all of the rooms and had been arranged in striking bouquets around the upper and middle deck. There was even a gift bag table. "And where did all of these people come from? You said the guest lists ended at 100."

Gilbert shrugged. He had combed back his normally unruly hair and looked very much like a gentleman with his three-piece suit and tie.

"150 isn't too much," he said. "As for the cost of everything, remember what I said earlier? Coupons! Now, before you get all snippy, you should know that you look nice tonight. I can't believe you did all of this on your own."

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "I am capable of putting on eyeliner you know."

"And you didn't even smudge it. Good for you."

A beautiful woman with long blond hair came up to them.

"I heard you're the Captain of this fine vessel," she said to Gilbert. She lidded her dark blue eyes and peeked out shyly from beneath long black lashes. "Would you be so kind to take a lady such as myself around for a tour?"

"It would be my pleasure," Gilbert said. He held out his arm and the woman latched onto it. He winked over his shoulder at Elizabeta and Lovino. "I'll see you two later. Have fun."

"I don't know why he does that to them," Elizabeta said as she watched Gilbert and the woman go.

"Does what?" Lovino asked.

"Lead them on like that. It's disgusting." She sighed. "Well, she should know better anyway. Gilbert is so obvious."

A passing waiter paused to offer them a drink. Elizabeta shook her head.

"Definitely not after the last time," she said. "Lovino?"

"Does this place have a bar?" he asked.

"Below deck, sir," the waiter said.

"I'll be there," Lovino said. He turned on his heel and headed for the stairs.

Elizabeta was about to go after him when someone tapped her arm. She turned around to see the man from the previous week. She struggled to remember his name. Had it been Josh or James? Whatever it was she remembered her extreme dislike of him and now, as he grinned down at her, she knew that he had not gotten any less unappealing. Still she put on her best smile.

"I knew it was you as soon as I saw you," the man said.

"Hello to you too," Elizabeta said trying to sound cheerful.

"You just ran off last time and never came back. And then the whole party shut down because some girl fell overboard. Can you believe that? What an idiot. She was probably drunk off her ass."

Elizabeta felt her hands curl into fists and hoped that she was still smiling.

The man continued, "So you're not here with anyone else?"

"Actually I—" Elizabeta began.

"Great! We never finished getting to know each other." He grabbed her arm, oblivious to how tense she had become, and began leading her towards the upper deck. "The guy who owns this thing really outdid himself this time. Didn't you say you knew him?"

"He's a—"

"I would love to meet him. You can introduce us later. Have you been to the buffet table? My father is the CEO of one of the richest bank chains in the world and even he doesn't have food so good at his parties."

"I really don't want—"

"Your name was Elizabeth, right?"

"Elizabeta," she corrected.

"Are you French?"

She stared at him. "Hungarian."

The man shrugged. "I was hoping for French."

They had reached the top deck. Josh/James had an iron grip on her arm but Elizabeta knew she could break it—although probably not without making a scene—if things got really bad, which they were beginning to.

"I'm actually thinking of buying my own boat," Josh/James said. "This is what, 35 meters? I'll probably go with the 40 meter one."

"People might think you're compensating for something," Elizabeta said with a smirk.

Josh/James laughed. "Then they would be very wrong."

Elizabeta only smiled in reply. She was already thinking of a way to escape this man.

Josh/James snatched a shrimp cocktail from a passing waitress. "So what have you been up to since we last saw each other?"

"Not much, just exploring the islands," Elizabeta said. She picked up one of the black roses that had been used to decorate the deck.

"Those things freak me out," Josh/James said. "I didn't know you could find them that color."

"Not in nature but they're created in laboratories through cross breeding. And they're not really black, just very dark red."

"You seem to know a lot."

Elizabeta gave her companion a tight smile. "I like to read."

"What else do you like to do?"

His tone and the way he was looking at her immediately made Elizabeta feel ill and angry.

"I like to eat," she said. "I'm going to go find that buffet table."

She turned to go but Josh/James grabbed her arm.

"You think I'm just going to let you run off like that? And then I won't see you for the rest of the night." He grinned. "You can fool me once, but not twice sweetheart."

Elizabeta grabbed his hand and pried it off her arm, twisting it back so that he gasped in pain and surprise.

"I'm no one's 'sweetheart'," she hissed. She knew that with a little more force she could break his wrist and the man whimpered pitifully as she tightened her grip. "Now leave me the fuck alone." She let go of his hand and left him there to cradle his bruised hand and nurse his broken pride.

Lovino was still at the bar when Elizabeta found him. Sitting next to him was a woman with short dark hair who was unsuccessfully flirting with him. He was bent over his drink and visibly ignoring everything she was saying. As Elizabeta neared to them the woman finally gave up and left the bar.

When she saw the direction Elizabeta was heading she said with a cool smile, "I wouldn't waste your time with that one. I know mimes that speak more."

Elizabeta slid into the now unoccupied seat next to Lovino. "Hi," she said.

He relaxed a little when he saw it was just her. "Hi," he replied.

"She seemed nice."

He drained his glass and ordered another drink. "I wasn't really paying attention."

Elizabeta glanced around the room and saw that she had been right. At the far end was a string quartet and besides them a piano player. If she remembered correctly, such an arrangement was called a piano quintet. She smiled to herself and thought that Roderich would be proud. They had long finished the Andante and now were playing something that she didn't know but assumed was Brahms or Beethoven. The lower deck had been turned into an impromptu ballroom and men in finely tailored suits danced elegantly with women in colorful flowing evening wear. It was a far cry from the loud and crude atmosphere the week before. No one was passed out in the corner or dancing on tabletops. Elizabeta had to admit that Gilbert had done right to choose the formal theme.

She stood up from her seat. "Would you like to dance?" she asked.

Lovino snorted. "I don't dance."

"Then let's go for a walk. You look like you've had enough to drink for tonight."

To her surprise he set down his drink and pushed back his chair. She took his hand and led him out of the room. They ended up near the front of the boat and Elizabeta was tempted to jump onto the prow and pay homage to Leonardo DiCaprio by screaming "I'm the King of the World" into the air.

Even though she hadn't drunk a drop of champagne she still stood a little bit away from the railing. There was a stillness in the air that night, as if the whole world was holding its breath. Even the ocean was silent and lay unmoving like a fine dark carpet without the slightest ripple or tremor to disturb it.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Elizabeta said as they both looked out into the night. They were still holding hands but neither seemed to be aware of it. "The water."

Lovino only shrugged.

"I've been told that life is like the ocean, sometimes unpredictable, bumpy and full of waves and destruction, and other times still and peaceful. And you never know what you'll find in it—who you'll find in it. A lot of times you take it for granted because it's just there and it's not until you stand back and really look at it that you see just how beautiful it is. I don't remember where I heard that but it finally makes sense to me now."

"Only you would believe something like that," Lovino said. "Life is not beautiful, it's fucked up."

Elizabeta frowned at him. "How can you just say that?"

"Because it's true! Nothing ever goes right and even when you're down on the ground someone is still kicking your ass."

"We all have bad days but in the end it's the little bumps and bruises that make you appreciate life, especially when you can overcome them."

"I'm not sure I believe that," Lovino said sourly.

"Maybe if you weren't such a pessimist..."

"I'm not a pessimist, I'm a realist, and real life is a bitch in case you haven't noticed."

"Do you ever let yourself be happy?" Elizabeta huffed.

Lovino shrugged. "What's the point? Whenever something good happens to me it always ends up utterly ruined or destroyed shortly after."

"I doubt that."

He was silent for a few seconds and then said quietly, "You know, there were actually a lot of times I could have left them." There was no need to explain who he was referring to when he said 'them'. "But I stayed because, among other things, for the first time I was the one people were focused on. They made me feel important and I finally had an identity that wasn't 'Feliciano's older and less talented brother'. And of course all that ended literally in a fiery inferno." The last bit was said with faint bitterness.

Elizabeta gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "But something good did come out of that. You're free of them now. And, to me, you are and always will be Lovino. But you don't need me or anyone to tell you who you are or that you matter. Don't ever believe that you're less important than everyone else."

Lovino sighed. "Free. You say that like it's something so simple."

"You are free," Elizabeta insisted, "and I'll do whatever I can to keep you from going back to those people and to keep them away from you."

"Damn you're stubborn," Lovino said, but he was smiling.

She grinned in reply and he suddenly wanted to believe everything that she had said; that he was completely free and the family was forever in the past. He wanted to see life as she did, beautiful and wonderfully unpredictable. She made him happy and he wanted to believe such happiness could last forever. But…

He frowned. "There's one thing I could never understand. I don't know how they found Feliciano. Even when he came to visit me I did everything to cover his tracks. Everything. And," he paused for a second as if he was unsure how or even if he wanted to continue but then he said, "And the only person I ever told about him was Sandro."

"Alessandro is dead," Elizabeta said slowly. "You shot him."

A look of pain crossed Lovino's face but it was brief and she barely saw it before it was gone and replaced by grim certainty. Lovino nodded. "Yeah, I did."

"So, most likely he had already told someone about Feliciano and that's how they found him."

Lovino nodded again. "You're right. That has to be it. And he obviously wasn't trustworthy."

Elizabeta took a deep breath. "Let's just not talk about Alessandro or anything related to the family."

"So what do you want to talk about?"

"You," she said with a coy smile. "I don't think I really know anything about you."

"Such as?"

"Your favorite color."

"Are you serious?"

"Of course! You do have one don't you?"

"…red."

Elizabeta laughed. "Why am I not surprised? How about your favorite food?"

Lovino sighed but answered, "Tomatoes."

"Again. I'm not surprised."

"What is this? Your version of twenty questions?"

Elizabeta shrugged. "Sort of. Now, favorite movie? Wait, don't tell me. _The Godfather_."

"Not even close."

* * *

Elizabeta was having second thoughts. She was having second thoughts about leaving Tenerife and the Canaries. She was having second thoughts about leaving Lovino. She hadn't told Gilbert about these second thoughts and only began to think them herself the previous night after the party, which had turned out to be a huge success, according to Gilbert. He still wanted to have another one before they were scheduled to leave the next day but Elizabeta didn't know where he would find the time and money to get everything ready. However, if they didn't leave as planned…

"You're thinking about something."

Elizabeta looked up to see Gilbert leaning on the counter. She was surprised to see him awake so early. She had expected him to stay in bed until at least 2:00 to sleep off his hangover. He was already dressed and looked ready to take on the day. She on the other hand was still wearing her pajamas beneath her robe and her hair hung limp around her face.

She reached forward and took a sip from her cup of coffee. She made a face. It was cold.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said as she set the cup back down on the table.

"Yes you do. And I know you are." Gilbert sat down across from her and propped his feet up onto the table. She hated when he did that and he did it because he knew how much it irritated her.

"Because you know me so well," she said sarcastically.

"Actually, I do. I'm your best friend, remember?"

"Fine, then tell me what I'm thinking."

Gilbert studied her face for a few seconds before answering, "You're thinking about a person—someone close to you."

Elizabeta burst out laughing. "Wow Madame Gilbert, I'm so impressed by your amazing powers of insight! Next, can you predict my future?"

Gilbert scowled and leaned back in his chair. "I don't know why I even bother talking to you in the morning. You're so damn sarcastic. Actually, you're always sarcastic but much more in the mornings. Just tell me what you're thinking."

Elizabeta traced the rim of the coffee cup and then said slowly and carefully, "How would you feel if we didn't go to Paris tomorrow?"

Gilbert's eyebrows shot up. "You're serious? Where would we go?"

Elizabeta looked down at her hands. "We wouldn't go anywhere," she said quietly.

"You want to stay _here_? For how long?"

Elizabeta shrugged.

Gilbert's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh, I know who this about. You don't want to leave him."

She was silent.

"So this is it? Your journey ends with him?"

"No! I never said that! I…still want to keep going but I thought, maybe, I would put the whole trip on, uh, hiatus for a few weeks."

"A hiatus, huh? And what would you be doing this hiatus?"

Elizabeta stood up and finally looked Gilbert in the eyes. He was confused and more than a little angry.

"Let's talk in the sunroom," she said.

Gilbert followed her out of the kitchen. "This place has a sunroom?"

"Yes, I found it yesterday. I can't believe we never noticed it."

Next to the sliding door that led to the pool was a slim door painted the same pale shade as the wall so that it was almost indistinguishable. It looked like the type of door normally associated with a cupboard or pantry but when Elizabeta opened it it revealed a short, dark hallway that ended at another door. From beneath the door came a thin stream of light.

"Are you sure this doesn't lead to Narnia?" Gilbert asked as they walked down the dusty hallway.

"Maybe it does," Elizabeta half-joked.

She pushed open the door at the end and on the other side was a large, sparsely decorated room that was surrounded almost completely by glass walls. The glass was so fine that it looked like you could walk right through it. Outside was only a perfect view of the ocean. From the ceiling hung pots of long dead carnations. A plush sofa chair and couch had been arranged in the room so that they faced each other. In between them was a polished wooden table on which sat an empty glass vase. Off to the side was a small table accompanied by two wooden chairs. The whole room carried the faint scent of roses.

Gilbert flopped down onto the couch and sneezed as a cloud of dust rose into the air.

"How did you find this place?" he asked amazed.

"I realized that there were so many doors in the house that I hadn't opened yet so I just went around opening them," Elizabeta said. "There's also a sauna upstairs."

She took one of the wooden chairs and pulled it up the sofa. She carefully dusted the seat before sitting down.

"What? Why wasn't that mentioned in the house description?"

Elizabeta shrugged. "I guess it was assumed that we would find everything ourselves. But let's get back on topic."

"You mean how you want to stay here with you darling little Italian squeeze?" Gilbert said mockingly.

Elizabeta frowned. "There's something bothering him Gilbert, I can tell. He said he stayed in Palermo because something bad happened but won't tell me what. I'm afraid he might go back there. I want to help him."

"What could _you_ possible do Liz?"

"I don't know but I can't just let him get himself killed."

Gilbert picked up the glass vase and turned it over in his hands. "And what if he stays here like a good little boy?" he asked.

"They could still find him. I just want to make sure that he's alright."

"What are you? His mother? He's a grown man, even though he acts like a little brat 99% of the time. He also was in the Sicilian Mafia for almost four years and we both know that he did a little more than sit around smoking cigars and eating cannoli. He doesn't need you to take care of him."

Elizabeta sighed. "I know, but I still want to help."

Gilbert gave her a level look and said, "Is that _all_ you want?"

Elizabeta felt her face heat up. She was saved from answering by the sound of the front door opening.

Gilbert stood up from the couch. "That's probably Antonio. We'll finish this later."

They walked back to the main house in silence. Antonio gave a little jump of surprise when they came out through the door.

"Where does that lead to?" he asked pointing down the hallway.

"Narnia," Gilbert said.

Antonio's eyes widened. "Really?"

"No it doesn't," Elizabeta corrected. "Don't tease him like that Gilbert."

Gilbert grinned. "It leads to a sunroom. Can you believe that? I have a sunroom and a sauna and I never even knew."

"That's really cool," Antonio said. "Houses like this always seem to have hidden rooms."

"I know, I love this place. It's so fucking awesome," Gilbert said. "I almost don't want to leave tomorrow because it will just be shitty hostels again. Well…" he stole a glanced at Elizabeta, "you can never really predict what will happen."

"You can say that again," Antonio said.

Elizabeta suddenly noticed that he looked exhausted. He had dark circles under his eyes and his clothes were rumpled and dirty. It was almost as if he had slept on the floor.

"Were you finally able to work things out with your landlord?" she asked.

Antonio's normally cheerful face turned grim. "Actually, no. It's a long story but she, uh, said she couldn't afford to keep me because I was too behind on rent and that she didn't even know if she would be able to keep the building…"

"You're saying that she kicked you out?" Gilbert said in disbelief.

Antonio gave him a half-smile. "Yeah, pretty much."

"That bitch," Gilbert said outraged. "I told you tell her to go to hell. And don't give me that BS about your mother. No mother would ever kick you out."

"So where did you sleep last night?" Elizabeta asked, equally shocked and angry.

"I called my boss and he said I could stay at the restaurant, but only for one night. Most of my things are still there."

"Why the hell didn't you call us?" Gilbert all but yelled.

"I didn't want to interrupt your party," Antonio said sincerely.

Gilbert stared at him. "Seriously? You getting kicked out of your apartment is 10x more important than some stupid party," he said.

"Where are you going to live now?" Elizabeta asked.

Antonio shrugged. "I'm sure I'll find something. It might take some time though."

"Or…you could stay here," Gilbert said.

Antonio's jaw dropped. "No…I couldn't possibly…"

"Yes you could!" Elizabeta said excitedly. "Gilbert, this has to be the best idea you've ever had."

"The house is all paid off and you would only have to worry about the utility bills," Gilbert said. "You wouldn't even have to pay rent. You won't get a better deal anywhere else on these islands."

Antonio looked as he was about to protest so Gilbert added. "And I won't take no for an answer. You're staying here. End of story."

"You two are the most amazing people I've ever met," Antonio said, his eyes shining and full of emotion.

"Don't say that. It will just make Gilbert's ego swell to even larger proportions," Elizabeta said. She gave Antonio a quick hug. "I'm so happy that you'll be living here."

"Will you be able to handle the brat?" Gilbert asked. "I can't imagine this will be good news to him. Where is he by the way?"

"I think he's still sleeping. He had a few drinks yesterday," Elizabeta said.

Gilbert gave her a sly look that she pretended not to see.

"We need to get your things Antonio," she said. "Or do you want to pick your room now?"

"Can we eat breakfast first?" Gilbert asked.

Elizabeta scowled at him. "Your stomach is not what's important at the moment," she snapped.

"It's no problem for me," Antonio said cheerily. "What are you in the mood for?"

Elizabeta watched the two head towards the kitchen talking about Antonio would make for breakfast. When they were gone she went upstairs to check on Lovino. There was no answer when she knocked on his door and she found that he had locked it from the inside.

"Lovino?" she called, her voice tinged with slight worry. "Are you okay?"

There was a rustling sound and then she heard a muffled voice.

"I'm fine. Go away."

"Antonio is making breakfast. Do you want him to put aside a plate for you?" she asked.

"No. Not hungry," he replied. He sounded as if he were congested and she thought she heard a sniffle.

Lovino always seemed to be hungry and he had never missed breakfast since he had arrived.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes! I'm fine! Go away."

Elizabeta decided to leave him be for the moment. "OK. I'll see you later," she said.

Lovino didn't answer. She sighed and wondered what had caused this sudden change in mood. At the party she had actually gotten him to smile. They had spent the whole time together, their hands comfortably entwined. Now he had returned to being cold and snappish. As she went back downstairs she hoped that whatever was troubling him now would pass quickly.

But Lovino stayed in his room for the rest of the day. Elizabeta and Gilbert helped Antonio move in and then went out for a celebratory late lunch. When Elizabeta asked if Lovino wanted to come, he angrily refused and said he didn't want to be bothered for the rest of the day. Antonio wondered if he was sick. Gilbert said he was purposely being an asshole.

"What if he is sick?" Elizabeta worried aloud when they returned hours later and Lovino was still locked in his room.

"He's fine," Gilbert said. "He's just sulking for some stupid reason. So where are we partying tonight?"

Antonio suggested a few nearby clubs and bars. Elizabeta said she wasn't in the mood to go out.

"Really Liz? It's out official last night here!" Gilbert said offended.

Elizabeta gave them a small smile. "You two have fun. I just don't want to stay out late."

Gilbert protested but she wouldn't budge. She waved them off when they left and spent the rest of the evening watching trashy reality television and wrestling, listing for sounds from upstairs. At 1:00 she finally went to bed. Some time later she woke up when she thought she heard a noise. At first she assumed it was Gilbert, but the bedside clock Ludwig had given her only read 3:00 and Gilbert had promised to be out the whole night. Still, she knew he could have gotten home early. Then she heard what sounded like a sob. She sat up in bed and waited, perfectly still. The sound came again—a choked cry—and she climbed out of bed. She checked Lovino's room and found the door open and the bed empty. Quickly, she hurried downstairs. He wasn't in the kitchen or TV room. He wasn't in the living room but instead in the den. She could hear the sound of his sobs as she stood outside the door. She walked in slowly and saw that he was sitting on the couch with his back to her. His hands covered his face. Even in the darkness she could see that his whole body shook violently.

"Lovino?" she said quietly.

"Go away!" he yelled. "Get the fuck out of here."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong! I'm fine! Leave me alone!"

Elizabeta walked towards him and gently laid a hand on his shoulder.

He jerked away and yelled, "I told you to go away! Can't you just leave me alone?"

"You and I both know that's impossible," Elizabeta said. "Now look at me."

"Please, go away."

He almost never said please. She moved to sit on the other side of him and held him still when he tried to move away.

"Look at me," she said again.

"No!"

She reached up and gently removed his hands from his face. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy and dried tear stains ran down his cheeks. What broke her heart the most was the sadness in those green eyes and just how broken he looked.

Lovino bowed his head and said so softly that she had to strain to hear, "Now you know the type of person I really am."

She tilted his chin up so that they were eye-level.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry."

His face crumpled and a strangled sob escaped his lips. She pulled him close and let him cry and he told her all his fears.

"I'm so scared Elizabeta," he sobbed. "I'm always so scared. There were so many times I thought I was going to die. They all kept dying and I couldn't stop them. I couldn't do anything. I try to be strong for my brother but I don't know how because I'm a coward. A fucking coward. That's what I've always been."

He clung to her and begged her not to leave and she promised that she never would as tears rolled down her cheeks. As he cried all she could say was, "I'm sorry", again and again.

"I'm so scared."

"I'm sorry."

* * *

The next morning Elizabeta woke up on the couch in the den. She threw off the blanket that had been carefully laid on her and found that she was alone in the room. Her last memory was of Lovino sleepily asking her not to leave and she had promised to stay.

She stood up and the calendar on the wall above the fireplace caught her eye. And then she remembered that it was the 22nd and she was supposed to be on a plane to Paris in a few hours. She could faintly hear Gilbert and Antonio's voices down the hall. They were both chugging large bottles of water when she ran into the kitchen.

"We're not leaving," she said firmly.

Gilbert made a choking noise and spit water all over the table. Antonio recoiled in disgust and his water bottle fell from his hands onto the floor and soon water quickly began to spread across the kitchen. Elizabeta didn't see any of this. She was already running back out the door, unaware of Gilbert calling for her to come back.

.

.

.

Lovino stared at the message he had received on his phone. It was actually a picture, not a message, and it had been sent from an unknown number he knew would be useless to try and track. The picture was of Elizabeta. She was laughing. She had been crossing the street when it had been taken and, besides a blurry sign, there was nothing in the background that told him where she had been at the time. She looked carefree and blissful, as if she had not a worry in the world. She looked beautiful. The picture had not come with any attachment or threatening note but he knew what it meant. He turned the phone over in his hands and pulled out the battery and SIM card. He dropped the phone onto his bed—it was still useful. He broke the SIM card easily, even though he knew there was a chance they already knew where he was. He would deal with the lithium-ion battery later. He tossed the SIM card into the trash just as Elizabeta burst into his room.

"I'm supposed to go to Paris today but I'm not going," she said breathlessly behind him.

"Well, that isn't a very smart decision," he said coolly.

"I don't care if I'm losing money on a stupid ticket. I don't want to go anymore. I want to stay here. With you."

Lovino let out a deep breath and turned around to face her. She had a small, shy smile on her face and her cheeks were pink from the running she had done. He prepared himself to crush her.

"What was it you promised Feliciano before you came down to Palermo?" he asked.

The look on Elizabeta's face became one of confusion.

"I don't understand," she said. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"What was the promise?"

"Why are you asking me this?"

"Because I think you've forgotten that Feliciano is the only reason you ever gave a shit about me."

Elizabeta gasped. "That's not true."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "You're such a fucking liar. Admit it. The only reason you went to Palermo and ruined my life was because of my brother."

"I—that's—"

"Admit it!"

Elizabeta flinched. "Okay, it's true that I promised Feliciano I would bring you back for him but now—"

"I knew it. It's always Feliciano. No one ever does anything for Lovino. No one ever gives a fuck about him."

"Why are you saying these things?" Elizabeta asked, her face distraught.

"I want you to get the fuck out of my life," Lovino said as coldly as he could.

Elizabeta paled slightly and her eyes widened in shocked.

"W-What?" she stammered.

"My God you're slow," Lovino sneered. "I want nothing to do with you. Leave me alone. Go to Paris. Go wherever you want. I don't give a shit."

"Why are you saying this?" Elizabeta asked softly.

"Because I hate people who lie to me."

"I never lied!"

"This has all been one fucking lie since the beginning," Lovino shouted. "Taking me in, pretending to care, telling me I mattered…all because of a stupid promise you made to my stupid brother. Forget Paris, I bet you're heading straight to Berlin after this to see darling Feliciano."

"Feliciano has nothing to do with this! I don't care about you because of a damn promise! It's not a promise that's making me feel this way!"

"You've been nothing except an annoyance and a problem. I let you into my life and everything I believed in came crashing down. Your company is toxic and I don't want it anymore. Leave me alone."

"Why? Why are you doing this?" Elizabeta wailed.

"Because Sandro was right and it took me this long to realize it. The man was a bastard but he knew women and he saw right through you. He told me the type of person you were the day he met you. Pathetic, worthless, a parasite, a curse, a liar. That's what you are."

Elizabeta seemed frozen in place. All the blood had drained from her face and her mouth hung open in shock. In a last, desperate attempt she searched Lovino's face for a sign that he was lying, that he meant none of these hurtful words. But she found nothing. His face was smooth and blank, his eyes cold.

"Now, get out of my sight," he said venomously.

Slowly, Elizabeta backed out of the room. When she was gone, Lovino picked up his phone from the bed. It was sleek and shiny and was more or less brand new. He threw it in the trash.

.

.

.

Gilbert found Elizabeta packing.

"I thought you said we were staying," he said.

"I changed my mind." Her voice was empty and emotionless. Her hands moved robotically as they folded clothes and set them gently in the bag.

"Liz, what's wrong? I heard shouting. Did something happen between you and Lovino?"

She said nothing and continued putting clothes in her suitcase.

Gilbert grabbed her hands. "Elizabeta, did he say something to you?"

She finally looked at him and he saw that her face held a mix of emotions. There was deep pain, sadness and ripe anger.

"He decided that I'm a liar and that…that I'm worthless. He wants nothing to do with me," she said in her hollow voice.

"I'm going to kill him," Gilbert growled.

He moved towards the door but Elizabeta stopped him.

"No," she said. "No. He's not worth it. Just let him be. Please."

"At least let me kick his scrawny ass to the curb!"

She shook her head. "No. Let him stay. He has nowhere else to go."

Gilbert gave her an incredulous look. "Elizabeta, how can you still say that after what he called you?"

"Because I won't have my feelings cause me to make petty decisions. If you kick him out then we're no better than he is. Let him stay. And don't tell Antonio about any of this. I don't want problems between them."

Gilbert frowned but said, "Fine. If that's what you want. I'm going to go pack." He stormed out the room.

Elizabeta continued packing. Her hands shook and her breath came in short gasps but she refused to cry.

.

.

.

Antonio saw them off. Elizabeta put on her best smile and hugged him goodbye.

"Thank you for everything," she said emotionally.

"I wish you the best wherever you go," he said.

"And same to you," she replied.

"Stay as long as you want," Gilbert said as he and Antonio shook hands.

"I can't thank you enough for this," Antonio said.

"It's no problem. _Mi casa es su casa_."

Antonio laughed. "Very well," he said. "I would have thought Lovino would be here to see you guys go."

Elizabeta stiffened and Gilbert's face darkened.

"I-I think he had to call his brother," Elizabeta said quickly. "I'll just call him later."

"Oh, okay then," Antonio said. He smiled. "You two better go now. You don't want to miss your plane. Good luck and visit again soon!"

"We will! Goodbye! _Adios!_" Elizabeta said as she climbed into the taxi.

She and Gilbert waved until the car turned the corner. Then the smile slid off her face and she slunk down in her seat.

"So, what now?" Gilbert asked.

"…I keep going."

.

.

.

Lovino was standing by the front window when Antonio came back inside.

"I thought you were talking to your brother," Antonio said.

"I thought you were leaving," Lovino shot back.

"I got kicked out of my apartment and Gilbert said I could stay here."

"Perfect," Lovino said dryly.

"Why didn't you come outside and say goodbye?"

"What does it matter to you?"

"I thought you and Elizabeta—"

"Say her name again and I'll rip out your tongue. What happened between us is none of you fucking business so don't ask and don't make fucking assumptions," Lovino hissed angrily.

"Uh, okay," Antonio said.

He thought to himself that the next few weeks could turn out to be very interesting.

"So, uh, do you want breakfast?"

But Lovino wasn't listening. He was looking out the window, his faced pained. He spoke as if he had completely forgotten Antonio was standing there.

"I thought that I could be happy, for one time in my life. Just for once I could…"

He turned away from the window and walked slowly down the hallway, his head bowed and body slumped as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his back.

"And yes, breakfast is fine," he said over his shoulder.

* * *

_June 24th_

_Dear Elizabeta,_

_I'm happy that you've been reunited with your friend. I hope you are having fun. _

_Have fun at the party and take care not to get yourself hurt again._

_I'm not very fond of France, but while you're there, I highly suggest visiting the Louvre. _

-_Roderich_

_p.s. - Wikipedia is not a reliable source_

* * *

**A/N:** /won't say anything about the ending.

Moving on, France is next and I am very excited to write those two chapters. And England is swiftly approaching, which fills me with even more glee. I think after Romano's chapter I will love France and England's chapters the most.

Also, France's chapter will be very different from anything you guys have read so far. I won't say how though, tee hee ;)

-with love

dancer


	10. France: Day 54 - 61

**A/N: **HELLO MY LOVELIES! DID YOU MISS ME? Because I missed you guys! I can't even begin to express just how sorry I am this chapter is so late. This semester of school has been a complete nightmare. I've never been so busy and stressed out in my life. Thank goodness it's almost over.

Regarding this fic, I'm pleased to say that I have (finally) finalized all the major pairings. Yay! /happy dance. There will indeed be a final Hungary/Elizabeta pairing but it will be quite a long time before you find out what it is.

One more thing! I had a few reviews about this so I just wanted to say that I'm not mean enough to end Romano/Lovino's story like that. He'll be back. When? Not telling :)

Anyway, without further ado, here is the next chapter! Please enjoy!

**Extra Notes:** **Olympe = Monaco, Angelique = Seychelles**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

* * *

_France:_

_Day 54 - 61_

_June 25th,_

_Dear Pansy Ass Aristrocrat,_

_Are you fucking stupid? Anyone with a brain knows that Beethoven was German! No one that awesome would be from Austria. __And Liz said you were smart. She really is a terrible judge of character, why else would she waste her time writing to you? __The Louvre is so boring, why the hell would you ever suggest a place like that? Wait I forgot you're into lame shit like that. WHAT DOES SHE SEE IN YOU?_

_Btw, I hoped you liked the kiss. It was a one time deal so you better have._

_Let's never meet again._

_Forever better than you,_

_The Awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt_

* * *

Gilbert couldn't say that he was a fan of flying. Maybe it was because growing up he had been taught that cars were the ideal or maybe it was because he had an old-fashioned view of transportation. Whatever the case, he preferred staying on the ground. The flight from Tenerife to Paris was gratefully short and he only felt a slight wave of dizziness when it came time to disembark.

He stole a glance at Elizabeta as they made their way through the terminal. She had been silent the whole flight, staring out the window and only speaking when she quietly declined a drink. There was a stark contrast between her usually cheerful demeanor and the bleak look she wore now. Gilbert wondered if this was what heartbreak looked like and hoped he would never feel what she was feeling at that moment.

This was the third time over the course of the trip that he had seen her in such a state. The common factor in all the situations was Lovino and Gilbert felt himself getting angry again. If Elizabeta hadn't stopped him from doing so he would have beaten the kid senseless and then thrown him out on the streets. It was beyond him how passive her response had been. He had seen her take down guys by herself for lesser insults. Her lack of retaliation only further proved to him that she had been in love with or was still in love with Lovino, even if she didn't seem to be aware of it herself—as unbelievable as that was to Gilbert. It was pointless to bring that up now but Gilbert wasn't exactly sure what to talk about. He could only stay silent for so long but the last thing he wanted to do was say something that would cause Elizabeta to further sink into her depressive state or lash out at him. He wanted to tell her that everything would be alright, but once again, he wasn't sure if that was true.

He groaned loudly when they came to the line for passport control. It stretched almost half the terminal.

"I don't understand what all these people could possibly want to do in France," he said to Elizabeta as they joined the queue.

Elizabeta only shrugged and turned to stare blankly at the back of the man in front of them. Gilbert sighed and glanced impatiently around the terminal. He noticed a man standing off to the side, furiously going through his bags. He looked visibly upset and piles of clothing were scattered around him.

Gilbert smirked and leaned down to whisper to Elizabeta, "Either that guy lost a check for €1.2 million or he's planning to blow this place up."

He expected her to scowl at him or scold him, pretending that she didn't think he was completely hilarious but instead she only shrugged again and said, "Perhaps," before turning her gaze to the front once more.

"Elizabeta," Gilbert said, purposely using her full name. She turned back to face him.

"What?" she asked neutrally.

"Can you…can you," Gilbert struggled to find the right words. "Can you just…smile? Please? I can't handle you being like this."

"Like what?" Elizabeta replied. There was hint of irritation in her voice that Gilbert found strangely comforting. Anything was better than the empty tone from before.

"Like…like you just found out that your dog got hit by a car."

"…I don't have a dog."

"That's not the point! I want old Liz back. I know you're hurting but—"

"I don't want to have this discussion now. Not here," Elizabeta said firmly. "Please."

Gilbert reluctantly closed his mouth. At that moment Elizabeta looked almost fragile, as if any second she might fall apart. It was very strange for him to be seeing this vulnerable side of her. Gilbert wished he could take a peek at what was going on inside her head. It would at least make it easier to talk to her.

They fell back into a strained silence. The line moved faster than Gilbert expected and they reached the front in 30 minutes instead of the two hours he had initially predicted.

"How long will you be staying?" the man at the desk asked when Gilbert handed him his passport.

"Two weeks," Gilbert said confidently in French. He had wasted over 5 years learning the language and was glad to finally be using it.

The man's eyes flickered up briefly from Gilbert's passport but he said nothing except, "And what is the purpose of your visit?" in purposeful English.

Gilbert frowned at this, feeling rebuffed. "Research paper," he said, once more in French.

The man handed him back his passport. "May I ask what your topic is?" he replied firmly in English.

"Whether French people are really the stuck up snobs everyone says they are," Gilbert shot back.

The man gave him a tight smile. "How insightful."

"Fucking awesome, right? And I've already got my first piece of evidence." Gilbert grabbed his passport. "_Adieu_," he said over his shoulder as he walked past the desk. "Asshole," he added silently when he was far enough.

He waited impatiently on the other side for Elizabeta to come through. When the man asked her the reason for her visit she only said, "I'm sorry. I don't know anymore," and handed him her passport.

"What the hell was that?" Gilbert asked when she joined him. "You don't know anymore? Are you serious? What sort of bullshit answer is that?"

Elizabeta sighed, "I told you that I don't want to talk about this now."

Gilbert stopped walking and let his bags fall to the ground. "Well maybe we should because I don't want to take another step unless I know you're 100% sure that you have a reason to be here."

"Gilbert, stop it," Elizabeta hissed angrily. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I don't want to travel with you if you're plan is just to mope around the world. If you don't want to do this anymore then say so and I'll be on the first plane back to Berlin with only a job in a cubicle to look forward to."

"You're such a jerk Gilbert. It hasn't even been six hours since we left Tenerife. I expected that you would at least be considerate of my feelings."

"Considerate? You want me to be _considerate_? I was ready to throw that guy out of a window for you but no, you want me to be considerate? What the hell Elizabeta?"

"Shut up Gilbert. We are not having this conversation," Elizabeta snapped. Her face was flushed and angry.

Gilbert ignored this and continued, "We could have just gone back home. You're the one who said you wanted to keep going. If you didn't mean it then why did you say it? Why are we here?"

"I did mean it!" Elizabeta said loudly, causing a few people to turn around to stare at them. "I'm not going to stop just because…just because…"

"He broke your heart?"

She flinched. "He didn't break my heart. He never had it to begin with," she said weakly.

"Well if he didn't break your heart then why are you acting like he did?"

"Since when are you the love Doctor? You think relationships are shit. How would you know what heartbreak looks like?"

"Because I'm looking at you."

"You have no idea what you're talking about. I'm fine. I…I just lost someone who I thought was my friend. Anyone would be upset."

"I think you're a little more than upset. And you're either in denial or completely oblivious about your feelings."

Elizabeta dropped her bags and marched up to him until they were face to face.

She jabbed a finger at his chest. "Don't you dare talk to me as if you know what I'm feeling. You have absolutely no idea," she whispered furiously.

"I think I have a little idea," Gilbert said calmly.

Elizabeta narrowed her eyes but stepped away. She picked her bags back up and said, "I'm going to find my happiness Gilbert and there's no way in hell I'm stopping now. Not for anyone…I just need some time."

"How much?"

"I'll let you know by the end of the week. If you can't wait that long then the flights to Berlin are the other way. So what do you say?" She gave him a forced smile. "_Adieu_ or _Bonjour Paris_?"

Gilbert stared at her for a long time before he grabbed his bags. "Fine. _Allons-y_."

* * *

They couldn't find an affordable hotel and every hostel they went to was filled to capacity.

"Please, you must have something. This is our last option. We have nowhere else we can stay," Elizabeta begged the woman at the front desk of the tenth place they checked. "We'll take anything."

The woman shook her head again. "I'm sorry but we're full."

"I don't think you understand our situation," Gilbert said, trying to keep his voice steady. "If we can't stay here then we'll have to sleep on the streets. Are you really going to let someone like me sleep on the streets?"

"I really do wish I could help but we don't have a single room available," the woman said.

"Not even a closet?" Elizabeta asked.

Gilbert shot her a look. "I'm not that desperate."

"Like I said, we're full," the woman said. She gave them a pitiful look. "There is nothing I can do."

Gilbert groaned and threw his hands in the air. "How is every place in this damn city full? What the hell is everyone doing here?"

"It's probably because of K.A.R.A," the desk clerk said.

Gilbert and Elizabeta stared at her.

"Kara?" Elizabeta asked.

"It's K.A.R.A. The artist?" The woman replied, her tone clearly that of disbelief.

When she received no reaction, the woman continued, "She's the new painter. She became famous more or less overnight and she's being featured at the Yvon Lambert Gallery. As expected, she's drawn quite a crowd."

"Seriously? We can't get a place to stay because everyone is in a Paris to see a fucking painter? Even an Elton John concert would have been less lame. Let's get out of here Liz. I need a drink."

They left the hotel and stepped out into the warm summer night. The sun was completely set and Gilbert was almost ready to splurge on a room at The Ritz. Although there was a good chance that was an expense that would result in his brother closing his accounts, the idea grew more and more attractive each agonizing step they took down the street. They had been carrying their bags all around Paris for hours and Gilbert guessed that his shoulder bag had rubbed off a good chunk of skin by now. The only thing that wasn't completely terribly about the situation was that Elizabeta's previously gloomy expression had been replaced by one of annoyance and worry. She was even being snappish again towards him.

"I refuse to believe that there's not a single vacancy in any of the hostels," Elizabeta said angrily. "This is Paris!"

Gilbert only half-heard her grumbling. He was scanning the streets for an alcohol serving establishment. His gaze landed on a small building with a worn sign that read, "Babette's" and he didn't have to look twice to know what type of place that was. He grabbed Elizabeta's arm and dragged her towards the bar.

"Gilbert, I'm really not in the mood for this," Elizabeta said. "And this really isn't the time to be drinking."

"Nonsense. Every time is the time for drinking."

"Unless the bartender is renting out rooms there is no reason we should even be going in here."

"You know what Liz?" Gilbert said as he pushed open the door. "You really need to loosen up and I think this will help."

The bar was dimly lit with a moderately sized crowd and Gilbert immediately felt better than he had all day. His mood improved even more when he ordered two beers in French and the bartender didn't reply back in English.

"And you said my French was terrible," he said smugly to Elizabeta.

She rolled her eyes. "Anyone can order beer in French. That's one phrase you can find in the guide book of any language."

"Your refusal to acknowledge my supreme mastery of languages is sort of sad. It's almost like you're jealous of just how great I am at them."

"Yes, that's it exactly," Elizabeta said dryly.

The bartender arrived with their drinks. Gilbert threw his back almost immediately and was done in seconds.

"You're going to have to keep up Liz," he said eyeing her still full glass as he signaled for another round.

"I already told you that I'm not in the mood to drink. What we really should be doing now is looking for a place to stay!"

"Look, if worst comes to worst we'll just get a room at The Ritz or the Hyatt. I've stayed in both of those hundreds of times and I know they always have something available."

"For a price that neither of us can afford!"

"Maybe _you_ can't."

"I think someone is forgetting about a certain phone call from their brother."

"I haven't forgotten but this is an emergency. West will understand when I explain to him that everywhere cheap was full and our only other option was sleeping on the streets."

Gilbert was almost certain that his brother would still be furious at him.

"Well, I'm not ready to give up. I know we can find somewhere nice and affordable. We just need to look harder."

"Excuse me? I couldn't help but overhear. You say you're look for a place to stay?"

Gilbert turned around to face the speaker and found himself looking at a man with long dark blond hair, blue-violet eyes and a small smile that said he wasn't the type of person many people could say no to. He's was more than a little pretty and just the right handsome. Gilbert thought he had seen everything interesting in Paris but he guessed he was wrong.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," said the stranger as he approached them. His English had only the faintest accent. "But I think I can help you. I have a dear friend with a small place—I think the best term would be bed and breakfast—and I know for a fact that she has vacancies." He held out his hand. "I'm Francis, by the way."

Elizabeta reached out but Gilbert was faster.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt," he said, flashing his best smile. "And I think you're my new favorite person."

Francis smiled wider and Gilbert, who hadn't even been inside a church in years, sent up a silent amen because there had to be a higher power watching over him to give him such a blessing on a previously dreary evening.

"I'm glad to hear that," Francis said.

"I'm Elizabeta Hédeváry and you have no idea how happy you've made me," Elizabeta piped up. "We've been searching for the better part of a day for a place to stay."

"I'm sorry to say that you picked a very unfortunate time to visit," Francis said. "It's very hard to find a place at the moment."

Gilbert snorted. "All because of some stupid artist."

Francis looked amused at this. "Would I be correct in assuming that you're not very fond of art?"

"You would 100% right. I think it's fucking stupid that people waste time and thousands on finger paintings that I could do ten times better in two seconds."

"You wasted over a million euros on a _boat_," Elizabeta hissed in his ear.

"Huge difference Liz," Gilbert said. He turned back to Francis. "Art is what I see every morning when I wake up and look in the mirror. Whatever this Kara is selling is bullshit."

"It's K.A.R.A, and that's a very strong opinion you have," Francis said.

"Thank you. It really is the only one worth listening to. And K.A.R.A? Don't tell me you're into that stuff."

Francis gave him the smile from before. "The French have always held a deep appreciation for art."

"I could say a lot of things about what the French appreci—ouch!" Gilbert glared at Elizabeta.

She pretended not to notice him. "I have no deep personal opinions of art but I think it can be rather lovely, although it sometimes takes a special person to really understand the true intentions of an artist." She remained completely oblivious to the daggers Gilbert was glaring at her and continued, "I wouldn't mind seeing this, uh, K.A.R.A myself. She obviously must be very talented to garner such large crowds."

Francis look pleased at this and said, "Unfortunately, all the tickets to her debut have been sold out, or I would have suggested that you attend. I had the pleasure of being at one of her first gallery showings and she is indeed very talented."

"What exactly does she paint?"

"Believe me when I say you have to see it to believe it. I suppose you could call it abstract but that wouldn't be giving her the credit she deserves."

"Really? Now I really do want to see some of her work."

"As much as I would love to talk about Kara or K.A.R.A or whatever her name is, I'm sick of dragging my luggage around everywhere we go and I would like to know I'll have a bed to sleep in tonight," Gilbert said, annoyed at being forgotten.

"Of course," Francis said. "If you two are done here then we can go. It's only about a five minute walk."

"I'm done," Elizabeta said hopping off the barstool.

Gilbert drained his second beer and dropped a few bills on the bar. "Same. Let's get out of here."

"So if you're not in Paris for K.A.R.A, what brings you to the city?" Francis asked as they left the bar.

Gilbert had to force himself not to speak and only glanced at Elizabeta.

"It's, uh, difficult to explain," she said quietly.

"Oh I see. Some sort of lovers' getaway?"

Elizabeta made a gagging sound.

"Fuck no," Gilbert all but yelled. "No fucking way. That's disgusting. We're just friends, here on an extremely _platonic_ trip. That's it."

"Oh, I'm sorry then for assuming," Francis said.

Gilbert couldn't be sure but he thought he saw the flicker of a smile on his lips.

"We're just tourists, simple as that," Elizabeta said. "And all we want to see is the most beautiful city in the world."

"Then why are we here?" Gilbert said and burst out laughing. "Get it? It's a joke."

"We get that you're making a fool out of yourself," Elizabeta snapped.

"Fuck you Liz. I'm hilarious."

"Maybe to look at."

"Do you really want to fight now?"

"Yeah, maybe I do."

"Then bring it on."

"Are you two really not together, because you fight like an old married couple," Francis said.

Gilbert made a face. "Please don't say things like that."

"For once I have to agree with him," Elizabeta added.

"What do you mean 'for once'? You should always agree with me."

"Maybe if I was an idiot…"

"And we're here," Francis said.

Elizabeta and Gilbert stopped glaring at each other to look up at the small building that they had stopped in front of. It had only two floors but, despite its size, it had a homey, comfortable feeling to it. It had been painted pale pink with dark brown accents and was surrounded by pots of red and pink roses. Rose vines had twisted themselves around the balconies on the second level.

"Oh, I like it," Elizabeta announced.

"I'm happy to hear that," Francis said.

"I'm like it too," Gilbert said quickly.

Francis turned to him. "I'm happy to hear that as well," he said smiling.

Gilbert opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Elizabeta, who grabbed his arm.

"Come on Gilbert, let's see the inside," she said. She sounded almost excited.

Reluctantly, Gilbert let himself be pulled along. If he had to use a word to describe the interior, it would be cozy. Like the outside, the room they stepped into was decorated with roses, as well as plush chairs and in one of the corners there even was an old-fashioned cuckoo clock.

"It's so pretty," Elizabeta said. "Like one of those fairytale cottages."

They were in what Gilbert assumed was the lobby. At the front of the room was a large desk, which at the moment was unoccupied. Behind the desk was a staircase that most likely went to the upper levels. Off to one side was a closed door and directly across from it was a short hallway that he saw led to a sitting room or maybe a casual dining room. It had all been decorated in the same manner. It was all very cozy.

"This place is lovely," Elizabeta said. She walked over to examine the clock at the back of the room. "And it's pure luck that we're here. Thank you so much Francis."

"Is this like a hobby of yours or something? Rescuing homeless tourists and giving them a place to stay?" Gilbert asked.

Francis laughed. "No, you two were just special."

They all turned as the side door opened and out stepped a short woman with long braided blond hair and bright blue eyes that were behind thin rimmed glasses. She was dressed in all light pink except for a red hair ribbon.

At first she looked startled to see them but then her eyes fell on Francis and she frowned. "What are you doing here this late?" she asked sharply in French.

Francis half ran to her and grabbed her hand. "Thoughts of your lovely face wouldn't let me sleep and I knew I had to see you one more time," he said dramatically.

The woman rolled her eyes and removed her hand from his grip. "You're impossible. What do you want now? It better not be money."

"No, just your love."

"Francis!"

"I'm joking! I actually come bearing gifts."

"The last time you brought 'gifts' the police were called."

"It hurts that you still haven't forgiven me for that. This time I brought you customers." Francis switched back to English. "This is Gilbert Beilschmidt and Elizabeta Hédeváry and they need a place to stay for—sorry, how long will you be here?"

"Two weeks," Elizabeta said.

"Yes, so they will be here for two weeks and we both know that it's almost impossible to get accommodations at the moment. So I brought them here because I knew for a fact that you still had vacancies."

"Your place is absolutely lovely," Elizabeta said. "Did you decorate it yourself?"

"Thank you so much and yes I did. This has to be the sweetest thing you've ever done for me Francis," the woman said blushing.

"And I know just how you can thank me."

"If you mean what I think you do then forget it. Just take my gratitude."

Francis laughed. "Fine. This time I'll settle for just that."

"You two can follow me to the front and I'll get you checked in," the woman said. "I'm Olympe DuPont and I'm very pleased to have you._ Bienvenue __à__ Paris_. Welcome to Paris. Are you here to see K.A.R.A?"

"They're just simple tourists Olympe," Francis said before Gilbert could make a snide comment on just how he felt about K.A.R.A. "Here to see the most beautiful city in the world."

"Well that's wonderful. You could live in Paris forever and not see all of its wonders. Will you be needing any brochures or tour guides?"

"No, thank you," Elizabeta said. "I think it will be more fun to just explore blindly. You tend to find the most interesting things when you're not looking for them." The last part was said with bitterness that Gilbert was sure only he noticed.

Olympe gave her a small smile as she slipped behind the large desk. "I like you already. Francis, where did you put the keys for the upstairs bedroom? You two are together, yes?"

"If you mean as friends, then yes," Gilbert said firmly.

"Oh, in that case would you prefer two bedrooms?"

"One is just fine. Gilbert likes sleeping on the floor anyway," Elizabeta said.

"Say what?"

"Why not just give them the left-hand room?" Francis said as he joined Olympe behind the desk. "That one has bunk beds."

"It was taken by two exchange students earlier this evening, after you had left. But we just might have an extra cot downstairs. Go check."

"Yes ma'am."

"So does he actually work here?" Gilbert asked when Francis was gone.

Olympe reached into one of the desk drawers and pulled out a thick book with a worn cover. She set it on the desktop and began quickly flipping through it. "Francis? Yes, he's the part-time cook, part-time gardener and part-time repairman. He runs errands too from time to time. If he came into work more often perhaps he could actually be considered fulltime for something. Honestly, if he were anyone else I would have fired him by now. But…well…he's just…" she shrugged, "He's just Francis. Now, I'll just need one of you to fill this out and sign at the bottom." She passed them the large book and a pen.

Elizabeta picked up the pen and began scribbling down their information.

"And how will you be paying?"

"Do you take credit cards?" Gilbert asked.

"Yes, all kinds."

Gilbert pulled his card from his wallet and handed it over to her.

"I could pay this time," Elizabeta said softly.

"Don't worry about it," Gilbert said.

Olympe gave him back his card and he was happy to see that it had been approved. He had been slightly worried that Ludwig had gone ahead and closed his accounts anyway. It would be just like him to pull such an asshole move.

"You don't have to—never mind. Thank you," Elizabeta said.

She finished writing and pushed the book back to Olympe, who quickly scanned over what she had written before closing the book and putting it back in the drawer. She then pulled open another drawer and took out two small brass keys.

"These are for you," she said, handing one to each of them. "Now we just have to wait for Francis."

"Is he your only employee?" Elizabeta asked.

Olympe nodded. "Yes, it's just the two of us. Well, at least when he chooses to work."

"It's amazing that you manage this place virtually on your own."

Olympe blushed again. "I do my best. To be fair, it was Francis' idea to buy the property in the first place and he did help a lot with the renovations."

"So you've known each other a long time?" Gilbert asked innocently.

"Most of my life. He's like an older brother." She smirked. "He might try and convince you otherwise but don't believe him. He loves to tease."

"I see," Gilbert said. Well that was probably one source of competition down. He was feeling luckier by the second.

"That's so sweet," Elizabeta said. "He seems very nice."

Gilbert eyed her warily. This was the same woman who, not four hours earlier, had been looking like the saddest person in the world because—no matter how much she denied it—some loser broke her heart. Now she was smiling and all traces of sadness was gone from her face. True, this is what he had wanted, but he hadn't expected it to happen so fast. Worse, if Elizabeta really was back to her normal self, that meant she was back on her man hunt and it was very possible that she had found herself a new target. Who just happened to be his own…

Olympe laughed softly. "I'm not sure if I would use the word nice. He can be quite pleasant when he wants to be, but when Francis is nice, I would advise you to put some distance between you and him."

"Why do you say that?" Gilbert asked.

Olympe was about to answer when Francis walked back into the room.

"There was nothing downstairs. When was the last time you cleaned that room anyway?"

Olympe scowled."I believe that was the job I assigned you last week."

"Oh, really? I don't remember that at all."

"Maybe if you came into work more than twice a week."

"Maybe if you—"

Olympe silenced him with a gesture. "I really don't want you to finish that sentence."

Francis laughed. "You have no idea what I was going to say."

"I know you too well not to have a pretty good guess. Now, can you help our guests with their luggage?"

"They seem to be handling them fine without me."

"Honestly Francis, you are the worst. Why do I even keep you around?"

"Because you'll never find another face as handsome as mine in Paris."

Gilbert nearly jumped a foot in the air when Francis suddenly reached down and took his bag, the slight brushing of their hands sending a shock through him. His protests turned into jumbled mutterings and he could only stand stupidly still as his other bag was slipped off his shoulder.

"Miss. Hédeváry, would you like me to take your things as well?" Francis asked.

"You can just call me Elizabeta and no, thank you. I'm fine. I can carry them myself."

Francis gave Gilbert a sly smile and said, "It's nice to see that someone can."

Olympe sighed. "Let's just get you two to your rooms."

She began walking towards the stairs and they followed her in an orderly line with Gilbert, who was quickly recovering from his moment of embarrassment, bringing up the rear.

He grinned to himself and couldn't help but think that things were becoming more and more interesting by the second. Now that he had a better idea of whom he was dealing with, he could give himself the advantage in the situation. He wouldn't be taken by surprise again.

Olympe led them to a small room that, like the rest of the building, seemed to come straight out of a home décor magazine. There was even a pot of pink roses on the windowsill next to the bed.

"The shower and restroom is down the hall. If you need anything don't hesitate to come downstairs and ask. Mr. Beilschmidt—"

"Gilbert."

"Gilbert. I'll go get you some extra blankets. I'll see if I can locate that cot tomorrow," Olympe said before she left the room.

She hadn't been gone for two seconds when the large smile slid off Elizabeta's face. She grabbed her carryon bag and pushed past Francis, who was still standing at the door, quickly muttering something about changing for bed.

"I guess that just leaves you and me," Gilbert said grinning.

Francis rolled his eyes and dropped Gilbert's bags onto the floor. "Tell Olympe I've gone, okay?"

With that he turned and left the room.

"And where do you think you're going?" Gilbert said, hurrying after him.

"Home," Francis replied, not looking back.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. Why, what were you assuming?"

"Nothing. You just seem like the type to have…'other' activities planned."

Francis paused on the stairs and turned around. He raised an eyebrow and said, "I'm sorry to inform you but I don't generally engage in 'other' activities and am actually quite boring."

"For some reason I'm having a hard time believing that."

"You barely know me."

"We could change that." Gilbert switched to French. "Don't get too excited—well maybe you should just a little—but you've done what most people only dream of doing, which is impress me. You're interesting. And hot too. So this is me asking you out. Like I said, don't get too excited. I'm not looking for anything serious. How does noon tomorrow sound?"

Francis chuckled. "I wish I could say I was flattered, but I would be lying. I'm not interested."

"Okay, how about 11? Or is that too early?"

"You misunderstand. I'm not interested in you."

Gilbert blinked. "That's impossible."

"I think it's very possible." Francis gave him the smile from before. "In fact, it's the only possibility there is. I do appreciate the compliment though. It's a shame I can't give one back. And one more thing: Buy yourself a French grammar book. Your use of irregular verbs is atrocious. Goodnight."

Gilbert watched him go, half in disbelief, half in amazement. He stood at the top of the stairs for a few seconds, trying to process what had just happened. Usually in situations such as this he would immediately stop caring about the person stupid enough to reject him, but at that moment he was extremely tempted to run after Francis and ask him to reconsider his decision. Maybe he was more bored than usual or maybe Liz was beginning to rub off on him, but he wasn't ready to give up just yet.

"This will be an interesting week," he said to himself as he left the landing of the stairs and walked back to the room. He was surprised to find that not only had Olympe left him the largest pile of blankets he had seen in his life, but that Elizabeta was already in bed, the covers pulled up over her head.

"You're going to sleep already?" he asked, poking the lump on the bed that was his best friend.

"I'm tired," was the muffled reply.

"Really? I couldn't tell five minutes ago."

"Leave me alone."

"You put on a pretty good show, what with all that smiling. Even I almost believed it."

"Go away."

"When are we going to talk?"

Silence was his only reply.

"Fine," Gilbert said. He sat down on the bed. "If you're not going to say anything then I will. To put it in the simplest terms, I think you're acting like an idiot." He waited for the explosion but he only saw the form under the blankets tense up so he continued, "Really, what were you expecting? You knew him for a total of two weeks. I know we're on a tight schedule here but let's be honest, who falls in love in two weeks? How do you even really get to know someone in two weeks? You don't. Especially someone like that. I, uh, still think you can find your happiness or whatever you want, but I definitely don't think he was it. So dry your tears, forget him and move on. Okay?"

Gilbert leaned in closer and poked her again. "You're not really crying under there are you?"

Elizabeta still refused to speak.

"You better not be because he's not worth it." Gilbert stood up from the bed. "Anyway, I'm glad we had this talk." Not bothering to change, he let himself fall onto the mountain of blankets that had been arranged for him on the floor. "Tomorrow, we'll go see the Eiffel Tower and then I'll take you to a fancy café and buy you a slice of cake. How does that sound Liz?"

There was no reply and he sighed and said quietly, "I think it sounds fucking awesome. Goodnight."

* * *

When Gilbert woke up the next morning Elizabeta was gone.

"She left around—let me think—it must have been a little after seven because I was sweeping the front walkway," Olympe said when Gilbert asked her if she had seen Elizabeta.

"Did she say where she was going?"

"No, she just said that she was looking for something."

Gilbert watched Olympe walk away, feeling only slightly less anxious than before. All of Elizabeta's things were still in the room so she hadn't left the city. It was possible that she actually had been listening to him the previous night. Her French was much worse than his and maybe she had meant to say 'someone' instead of 'something'. He hoped so because that meant she was moving on, which was probably the best thing for her at the moment.

With Elizabeta gone, Gilbert wasn't sure what to do next so he decided he would just see how the day played out. But at the moment he was starving so he wandered off to find breakfast. In the dining room he found that a small feast had been laid out on the table. The only other people there were a young man and woman who were dressed as if there were going mountain climbing. He soon found out that these were the students that Olympe had mentioned the night before. Their names were Jack and Patricia and they were from Ohio—wherever that was. They were going to be studying art history in Paris for the next year. They would only speak French to him and spoke it in nasally, high-pitched voices. They didn't laugh at any of his jokes and insisted on correcting every grammatical error he made. He left before they were finished eating, afraid that if he spent another minute in their company he would flip over the dining table.

He felt a twinge of disappointment when he got back to room and found that Elizabeta still hadn't returned. Feeling restless, he decided to go through her bags and convinced himself that he was looking for clues as to where she might have gone. Instead, he found a postcard from her pen pal. He couldn't help but snicker at the brief message and could almost hear Roderich's snooty voice in his ear. Not for one second had he regretted kissing him, although he had done it partly just to make Elizabeta mad. However, that was where his interests in Elizabeta's friend stopped. Of course that didn't mean he would say no to another kiss, or two.

An idea suddenly popped into his head and Gilbert cackled at the ingenuity of it. He fished around in Elizabeta's bag until he found a blank postcard and spent the next few minutes writing his own reply to Roderich. When he was done, he took it downstairs and asked Olympe if she knew where he could mail it. She said that she would be happy to mail it for him, for free, and he thanked her gleefully. Elizabeta would kill him when she found out what he had done but it was worth it.

Once more bored, he decided to check explore the rest of the small bed and breakfast. Aside from the dining room, the first floor consisted of a music room, a reading room with a small library and the kitchen, none of which held any sort of entertainment for him. He was walking back to the lobby when he reached a part of the hallway where it split in two. One path would take him back to the lobby. He hadn't noticed the second hallway when he had walked by earlier. At the end of it was a simple wooden door. Curiosity got the best of him and he went to see where it led to. He opened it and found himself in a walled outdoor garden. Everywhere there were roses, more types and colors than he knew even existed. Dark ivy crawled along with walls and in the corner of the garden was a small tree that was erupting in brightly colored blooms. Somewhere, birds were singing. And in the center of this miniature Eden was a table at which sat Francis. He was absorbed in a book in his hands and didn't notice Gilbert until he was only a few steps away.

"You again."

Gilbert laughed. "You should be much more enthusiastic than that when you see me."

He didn't wait for an invitation and sat down at the table.

Francis raised an eyebrow but said nothing except, "Why are you here?"

"I was bored and I decided to walk around and then I found this door, which led me here." Gilbert glanced around. "This place is some kind of awesome."

"It's a nice place to come when you want to be alone."

Gilbert didn't get the hint. "Anyway, I'm glad I found you. I wanted to tell you that you should rethink the answer you gave me last night."

"That won't be necessary," Francis said.

"I don't think you know who you're saying no to."

"And I don't think you know who you're talking to."

"Usually I don't put up with this 'playing hard to get' bullshit but you're the most interesting thing in my life right now. I have a feeling that the next two weeks might end up being boring as fuck but you can change that."

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words? Seriously, you're about as charming as a frog."

Francis disappeared once more behind his book.

Gilbert noticed the title. "_Eat, Pray, Love_? You're reading _that_?"

Francis shrugged. "Olympe recommended it to me."

"I fell asleep halfway through the movie. Is the book any better?"

"If you stop talking and let me read then maybe I can tell you."

"It's funny how you keep acting like you don't like me."

Francis peeked over the edge of the book. "It would be rude of me to form an opinion of you when I know virtually nothing about you." His tone made it clear that he did indeed already have a strong opinion of him, but Gilbert was oblivious to this.

"You want to get to know me? Fine, ask me a question, any question."

Francis rolled his eyes. "I don't have time for this." He set down the book and stood up.

"Where are you running off to now?"

"I actually have a job and the last thing I need is Olympe screeching in my ear because I didn't wash the windows."

"Wait, what about my offer?"

"Haven't I already made it clear that I'm not interested?"

"I don't get what the problem is. What, you don't swing that way?"

Francis chuckled. "I swing whichever way I want. Just not in your direction."

With that he turned and went back through the door.

Gilbert knew he should feel annoyed or even upset at being rejected twice now, but he only felt the thrill that came with the chase. If Francis thought he was going to give up just like that then he was sorely mistaken.

He checked his phone to see if Elizabeta had texted him but his inbox was empty except for the old text from Lovino. He pressed the delete button, fully intending to get rid of the message once and for all, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to press yes when the message 'Are you sure you want to delete this?' flashed across the phone screen.

"It's just a stupid message," he said aloud. "It doesn't fucking mean anything."

Yet, he still couldn't delete it. Muttering curses, Gilbert closed his phone and shoved it back into his pocket. He would delete the message later.

He contemplated going to find Francis but at the same time he didn't want to seem too eager. _Eat, Pray, Love_ still lay on the table and he picked it up, not because he believed it would be particularly interesting but because he really had nothing else to do. He had been to Paris so many times on annoying family vacations that the typical tourist attractions—Notre Dame, The Louvre, The Tuileries Garden—had long lost their appeal. And although he would never admit it aloud, even though Elizabeta had left him behind multiple times since they had begun this trip, this was the first time he had felt the painful twinge of loneliness. So, to take his mind off this feeling, he flipped to the first page of the book and began reading about the travels of Elizabeth Gilbert and her search for everything across Italy, India and Indonesia. When Francis returned a few hours later, he was halfway through Italy and drooling at Gilbert's extremely detailed descriptions of the food she encountered. If he hadn't been to Italy himself, he might have thought she was exaggerating as she went on about pizza with flowing cheese and creamy, heavenly gelato.

He glanced up when he heard the door close and saw Francis strolling towards him. He also noticed at that moment that the sun had begun to set and he wondered just how long he had been sitting there.

"You missed me? Of course you did. No one can stay away for long."

"You wish. I only came back for the book." He held out his hand but Gilbert didn't relinquish the book.

"It's not half-bad. Better than the movie. I still don't understand the whole going celibate for a year thing though. Is that even possible?"

Francis smirked. "I guess some people just have more self-control than others. Are you going to give me the book back or not?"

"On one condition," Gilbert said.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not interested?"

"That wasn't the condition I was thinking about, although I'm extremely tempted." Gilbert switched to French. "You can have the book back if you teach me the proper way to use irregular verbs."

Francis stared at him. "You want…a French lesson?"

"Or a frenching lesson. Either is fine with me."

"You're impossible."

"No, I'm awesome. So what do you say?"

"I'm not much of a teacher. You'd be better off asking Olympe."

"For a frenching lesson? Well she is cute."

"Don't make me hurt you."

Gilbert grinned. "I don't really care about the quality of the lesson, just what I get out of it. Grammar is so fucking stupid but I'm sick of people jumping down my throat because, God forbid, I use the wrong adjective ending."

"Like you just did?" Francis said as he sat down at the table. "And I can help you with your grammar but fixing that accent will take a miracle."

"This is why I hate coming to Paris. Everyone here is so stuck up."

"Keep your opinions to yourself or I'll change my mind."

"If you do then you won't get your book back."

Francis shrugged. "I can always buy a new one. Now listen up. I don't want to spend more time than I have to in your company."

Over the next two hours Francis outlined the basics of French grammar, including need-to-know rules and rules that he would be better off forgetting. Although he claimed he wasn't a good teacher, he was patient and took his time in his explanations, as well as provided realistic examples when needed. Gilbert, who had only asked for these lessons in first place for the company, found himself actually paying attention to what Francis was saying and not just his face. He learned more in those two hours than the five years he had wasted away in the classroom. So he couldn't help but be a little upset when Francis said he was done.

"What do you mean? That's it?"

Francis stood up from the table. "Obviously you can't expect me cover every aspect of French grammar in a day. Besides, I have other places to be."

"Yesterday you said didn't engage in 'other' activities."

"Maybe I was lying. Now give me my book back."

Sulkily, Gilbert slid the book across the table to him.

"You're not so horrible actually," Francis said as he picked it up, "when stupid things aren't coming out of your mouth. And you're not half-bad as a student."

Gilbert leapt at the opportunity. "Oh, so maybe we could do this again sometime? In a more intimate atmosphere?"

Francis sighed. "There you go again. I'm leaving before it gets any worse."

"You like me! I know you like me!" Gilbert called after him.

Francis didn't give him an answer but he didn't need one. Gilbert jumped a little when his phone started ringing. He answered it excitedly, hoping it was Elizabeta, but it was his cousin.

"Oh, it's just you," Gilbert said disappointedly.

"Why do I even bother calling you when everything you say pisses me off?" Vash snapped.

"Then why do you?"

"Because I need a favor, you idiot, and not only are you in the right city but you're the only one with enough time on your hands to get it done."

"Another favor?" Gilbert whined. "I'm your cousin, not your errand boy. Get one of your underpaid lackeys to do it."

For this, he was forced to suffer ten minutes of threats and curses until he finally agreed to do what his cousin wanted. He spent the rest of the day running between all the banks of Paris. His cousin had more accounts than he thought were legal. His lessons in French grammar came in handy when he was forced to deal with an especially stubborn bank manager, who spoke almost no English and didn't understand the need for three saving accounts when all the money could be safely stored in one. Gilbert was forced to explain that his cousin suffered from extreme paranoia and didn't like having too much money in one account. It took more than an hour of arguing before the man finally agreed. By then Gilbert was ready to call Vash and tell him to go fuck himself except for the fact that he knew there was a chance he wouldn't wake up the next morning. It was almost one in the morning by the time he arrived back at the bed and breakfast. Olympe gave him a sleepy welcome and told him that Elizabeta was back. He quickly rushed upstairs but he found her fast asleep, wrapped tightly in her cocoon of blankets. She looked peaceful enough but he saw that the skin around her eyes was red and puffy. Gilbert was tempted to shake her awake but decided he was too tired to argue again that night. Olympe, bless her, had located that extra cot. He was asleep in seconds.

Elizabeta was gone again the next morning.

"This time I asked where she was going, out of polite curiosity—that's what I told her at least—and she said she would tell me when she figured it out." Olympe climbed down slowly from the ladder. She had been dusting the overhead fan in the music room. "I wouldn't worry too much if I were you. She looked happy, excited even."

"I'm not worried," Gilbert said and he was only half-lying, "I just want to know where she's running off to that's so special that she can't even tell me."

Olympe shrugged. "We all have out secrets." She folded up the ladder.

"I can carry that for you," Gilbert offered.

"Why thank you," Olympe said. "So, what are you plans for today?"

"Uh, nothing at the moment. Honestly, the only reason I'm here is because of Liz. Without her I really don't have anything to do."

"But you're in Paris!" Olympe sounded scandalized.

"I came here once a year until I was 18. There's nothing I haven't seen yet."

"There is always something to be seen."

"Yeah, well if you find it let me know." They came into the lobby. "Where do you want this?"

"You can put it behind the desk. I might need it again soon. Thanks again for your help." She sighed. "This is the kind of thing Francis should be helping me with."

"What about Francis?" asked an amused voice.

They both turned to see Francis walking towards them. His dark blond hair was pulled up into a ponytail and he somehow still managed to look sophisticated in jeans and a blue work shirt.

"You're actually here?" Olympe said, shocked. "To work? I can't remember the last time you showed up three days in a row!"

"If it's too much for you to handle I can leave," Francis said dryly.

"No! Stay! Please stay! You being here is perfect actually." Olympe ran behind the desk and pulled a folded piece of paper out from one of the drawers. "I need you to pick up a few things for me from the market. I've been meaning to go myself but I haven't had any time at all. I will be extremely grateful if you can just do this for me. Gilbert, why don't you go with him?"

The smile slid of Francis's face. "What?"

"He thinks he's seen everything in this city. Show him the Paris that only Parisians know." She turned to Gilbert. "I'm sure you'll find something worth your while. And you can also keep an eye on Francis for me. He has a habit of wandering off and then I won't see him again until midnight."

"I don't like this idea at all," Francis said.

"I like it," Gilbert said. "The awesome me would be happy to accompany you on your errand."

"I don't need you to accompany me," Francis snapped. "I'm perfectly capable of doing this on my own."

"Nonsense," Olympe said. "It will be even faster with the two of you anyway. Now hurry up and go. I need you back here as soon as possible."

"Do I really have to bring him along?" Francis all but whined.

"Stop complaining Francis and just go. Have fun you two!"

Grumbling, Francis whirled around and marched back towards the front door, Gilbert hurrying to keep up.

Gilbert could tell when they arrived at the market that this was a place that tourists seldom went. There were many food stalls with vendors selling anything from aubergines to fresh fish. Everywhere, he could hear French spoken with the confidence, ease and accuracy only a native speaker could possess.

Francis weaved expertly through the crowd. He seemed to know exactly where he was going because he ignored the calls of the vendors they passed and their promises of low prices and quality produce. Their first stop was a small stall that had the reddest apples Gilbert had even seen on display. The man in charge was stooped and elderly. When he saw Francis he smiled and Gilbert saw that he was nearly toothless.

"It's been too long since I've last seen you Francis," the man mumbled. "What brings you here today?"

"Olympe."

The man laughed. "She has you running errands again."

"I could have said no but I was in a good mood." Francis pulled out the paper that Olympe had given him. "I need two dozen of your best."

"Of course." The man began to prepare the order. "Who is your friend?"

Gilbert, who had been staring intently at the apples before him, realized that the man was referring to him.

A light blush appeared on Francis's cheeks. "He's not my—"

"Gilbert Beilschmidt. It's awesome to meet you. I'm just here to keep this guy from getting into any mischief. I guess I'm more or less his chaperone."

Francis was red by that point and glaring daggers. "He's staying at Olympe's and she asked me to show him around, that's all," he explained.

"Your French is not bad," the man said to Gilbert.

"I learned from the best."

"It's nice to see you with a companion again, Francis," the man said as he handed over the order. "You've been alone for too long."

"It's not like that," Francis said quickly as he took the bag. "I'll see you in a few weeks. Maybe." He hurried away.

When they were far enough he turned to Gilbert and said angrily, "What did I say about not speaking?"

"Oh, you actually expected me to keep quiet? And what did that guy mean 'you've been alone for too long'?"

"None of your business. Now stop talking."

"Damn, someone's grumpy today."

"Keep it up and you'll really see me grumpy."

They spent the next hour making their way around the market. Everywhere they stopped the vendors first teased or mildly scolded Francis for being away for so long. Then, when they noticed Gilbert, they became giddy with excitement until Francis was forced to explain the situation, crushing their hopes.

"I knew bringing you along would be nothing except troublesome," Francis muttered.

"I think you're enjoying this, just admit it," Gilbert replied, munching on a handful of grapes the woman at the last stall had given him as a treat.

He knew he was enjoying himself and not just because of the company. The market was full of so many new sites and smells. He wanted to see and touch everything. Vendors called out their latest bargains in sing-song tones, coaxing him to come and sample a wedge of cheese or a fresh garden tomato. At one point Gilbert completely lost track of Francis. He had been following him when a stall selling tangerines had caught his attention. The sharp citrus smell that wafted towards him was too much to resist and he found himself walking in that direction. The vendor was a pretty woman with short blond hair and soft brown eyes. She gave Gilbert a warm smile and handed him a tangerine slice.

"For you, pretty boy," she said in English.

"Don't mind if I do," Gilbert said. He popped the slice in his mouth and nearly groaned in delight at the sweet, tanginess taste that tickled his taste buds. "Fuck, this is good."

The woman smiled wider. "I grow them in my own yard. You won't find anything fresher in all of Paris. And for you, pretty boy, I will even take off half the price."

"Hey Francis, what do you thin—" Gilbert finally realized that he was alone. "Damn it."

"So, are you interested?" the woman pressed.

Gilbert hesitated. "I'm not sure…"

"This is a good deal."

"Yeah, I just don't—"

At that moment Gilbert felt someone take his hand and pull him away from the stall. Behind him he could hear the woman's angry protest but he was only paying attention to the person in front of him.

"Don't go running off like that," Francis said without looking back. "You stick out like a sore thumb and if you're not careful you'll get scammed by people like that. Hmpf, and I thought you were supposed to be keeping an eye on me."

They reached the edge of the market and it was then that Francis finally let go of his hand.

"Anyway, we're done here."

Gilbert made a face. He wasn't ready to go back yet.

As if he could read his mind, Francis continued, "Let's not go back just yet though. I know Olympe will have something else for me to do and I'm really not in the mood. There's a café close to here if you're interested."

"Are you kidding? Lead the way!"

Despite his mixed feelings for French people, Gilbert couldn't deny that they had good food. At the café he ordered two large slices of chocolate cake and a plate of éclairs.

"Are you sure that was enough?" Francis asked after the waiter left.

"Maybe I should have ordered the petit fours too," Gilbert said, looking slightly regretful. "I can't believe you only ordered coffee. Aren't you hungry?"

Francis took a carton of cigarettes from his pocket. "I had a big breakfast." He held up the box. "Want one?"

"Fuck yes. I bought a new box but I think Elizabeta hid it. She's been trying to get me to quit."

Francis lit his own cigarette and then slid the lighter and the carton across the table to Gilbert.

"Gauloises? Not my first choice but oh well." Gilbert lit his cigarette and then returned the carton and the lighter to Francis.

"How is your friend?" Francis asked as he slid the carton back into his pocket.

Gilbert shrugged. "I wouldn't know. We haven't spoken for two days. I think she's avoiding me."

Francis exhaled a cloud of smoke. "And why would she do that?"

Gilbert shrugged again. "The past weeks have been rough for her. She's had to deal with a lot of shit. I think she's trying to get back on her feet but I don't get why that involves shutting me out." He realized that he had probably said too much but he couldn't help but trust Francis. "I want to help her but she's not giving me the chance."

"Maybe she doesn't need your help. Maybe she wants to deal with this on her own."

"That doesn't make sense. Liz and I tell each other everything. We don't keep secrets."

"Everyone has secrets."

"Tell me one of yours."

"You first."

Gilbert leaned back in his chair and fiddled nervously with the worn table cloth. He took a deep drag before answering, "Ok, I have one. A few weeks ago I got this text message. I can't tell you what it's about but I should have shown it to Liz as soon as I got it. But I didn't and I've been stalling ever since. The best thing to do now would be to delete it but every time I try to I just can't. I don't even know what the hell I should do anymore and it's making me feel really fucking guilty." Finally being able to tell someone else sent a feeling of relief through Gilbert.

"Well, if you have this secret then she must have her own," Francis said.

"I didn't mean to keep it from her. I just, I don't know, wanted to keep her safe."

"Aw, that's sweet of you. I see there actually is more to you than an obnoxious jokester."

"Fuck you, I'm multi-dimensional. Now tell me your secret."

Francis grinned. "I was kicked out of school when I was 15."

"What for?"

"Having sex with a member of the faculty."

Gilbert snorted and then burst out laughing. "Seriously?"

Francis nodded. "I was young and foolish. The sad thing was that she thought it was more serious than I did. She called me every day for two months straight. I never called back."

"What an asshole," Gilbert said, still snickering.

"I guess I've always been a little like that," Francis said, a bitter smile on his lips. "I let people give, give, give and all I do is take because that's really all I can do."

Gilbert had stopped laughing. There was something he wanted to say but it was stuck in his throat. He wanted to tell him that they were not so different. He wanted to tell him that he understood that it was easy to be loved by someone but it was so much harder to show that love back. He might have spoken but the waiter chose that moment to reappear.

"Are you really going to eat all that?" Francis asked, eyeing the food placed in front of Gilbert with disapproval.

Gilbert held an éclair towards him. "Want a bite?"

Francis shook his head. "No thank you." He lit another cigarette. "Hurry up and eat. Olympe is going to start getting grumpy soon. And you really don't want to see her grumpy."

* * *

Gilbert slept through his alarm the next morning so he missed Elizabeta once again. She must have gotten up even earlier that morning because Olympe reported not seeing her at all. So Gilbert was again forced to eat breakfast with only Patricia and Jack as company. Now that he had a better grasp of French grammar they spoke to him in a only a slightly condescending manner, but still didn't laugh at his jokes. Afterwards, without thinking, Gilbert headed for the back garden. There—as if he knew he would—he once more found Francis, his nose buried in _Eat, Pray, Love_. But this time he wasn't alone. Sitting beside him was a young, dark-skinned girl. Her long brown hair was pulled into pigtails, each bound by a red ribbon. She couldn't have been more than 18 but Gilbert immediately felt a strange spike of jealousy. She noticed him first and he saw her lean over to whisper something to Francis who looked up from his book. When those violet-blue eyes met his, jealousy was replaced by something Gilbert couldn't quite put his finger on. They had parted the previous day knowing a little more about each other but not sure where to go next.

"I just can't seem to get away from you, Beilschmidt," Francis said, smirking.

"I don't understand why you would want to," Gilbert said. He nodded at the girl, who was staring at him with a look of pleasant curiosity. "Who's this?"

"This is Angelique. She's my niece. Angelique, this is Gilbert Beilschmidt. He's…an acquaintance."

Angelique gave him a wide smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you!" she said happily. He noticed that she spoke French with a strange accent.

"Right back at you," Gilbert said. Well, he had no reason to be jealous now, or at least that's what he told himself.

"Angelique is visiting from Seychelles," Francis explained.

"Am I supposed to know where that is?"

Francis scowled but Angelique only laughed.

"Don't worry," she said, "99% of the people on this planet don't know where Seychelles is. It's a tiny little group of islands off the northeast coast of Madagascar. I'm from Mahe, the largest of them."

"Wow, thanks. I'm going to store that in my 'awesome facts to impress people at parties and bars' memory vault."

Angelique giggled. Francis only rolled his eyes.

There were only two chairs so Gilbert leaned against the table. "So what is this, a family trip? Are your parents here too?" The words were barely out of his mouth when he realized that he had said something very, very wrong. Francis paled and Angelique's eyes grew wide. They spoke up at the same time.

"Her parents are—!"

"My parents are—!"

They exchanged glances. Angelique gave Francis a small smile that said, 'I'll take care of this' before turning to Gilbert, who was feeling more than a little awkward by then.

"My parents are dead," she said quietly.

Francis flinched and looked away.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Gilbert said. "My parents are dead too. They died when I was 13." He didn't know why he said this; it just slipped out. He never spoke about his parents to anyone, not even his brother or Elizabeta. He kept his memories of them locked tightly away and had no intention of reopening those old wounds. He looked up and saw that Francis was staring at him with a mixture of pity and confusion.

"I'm sorry," Angelique said.

Gilbert shrugged. "Yeah, but, uh, it was a long time ago." It was time to change the subject. "Uh, anyway, so how long are you going to be here?"

"Three weeks. A month, if Francis says yes."

"I already told you, I'll be in Rome at that time."

"You can take me with you!"

"Your Aunt will kill me. She still hasn't forgiven me for taking you to Greece."

"She doesn't have to know!"

"Nope, you're just going to get me in trouble. Three weeks, end of discussion."

Angelique sighed and crossed her arms. "Fine," she muttered bitterly.

Francis turned to Gilbert. "So what brings you out here today? Besides to pester me."

"Elizabeta ditched me again."

"How unfortunate."

"I know. I'm going to need to put a tracker on her. What are you doing today?"

"Whatever she wants," Francis said pointing to Angelique. "When she makes up her mind."

"I already said that I want to go to Notre Dame," Angelique said.

"I thought you were saying something about The Musée d'Orsay?"

"No, I said I wanted to go there tomorrow."

"What about The Louvre?"

"Absolutely not. One can only see the Mona Lisa so many times."

"The Catacombs?"

"The line takes forever."

"The Palasis-Royal?"

"Francis!"

"Okay, Okay! We'll go to Notre Dame. It's not as if you haven't been there a hundred times already."

"I think he has something against cathedrals," Angelique said to Gilbert.

"No, it's the crowds I dislike and there will be more people there than usual today. But if you really want to go…"

"I do. Gilbert—can I call you Gilbert?—would you like to come along?"

Francis made a choking noise. "I-I thought this was supposed to be family bonding time."

Angelique gave him a self-satisfied smile. "We have three weeks to bond. Besides, it's been so long since you've had an…acquaintance. I'm interested in learning more about your relationship."

"There's nothing to learn. And I'm sure Gilbert has other plans," Francis said.

"Weren't you listening earlier? Liz ditched me. My schedule is completely empty." Gilbert grinned. "So I would love to go with you to Notre Dame."

Francis groaned but Angelique smiled widely. "Excellent," she said.

* * *

They ended up people watching in front of Notre Dame Cathedral. Gilbert and Angelique exchanged stories in alternating French and English and Francis chain smoked while pretending he didn't care that they were talking about him. When a group of tourists approached them, asking if one of them would be kind of enough to take some pictures, Angelique eagerly volunteered. She was gone before Francis could even say anything, a hasty "Be back in a bit" yelled over her shoulder.

"I would have never pegged you for an Uncle," Gilbert said after a few seconds of silence. "Can I call you Uncle Francis?"

"Go ahead. See what happens."

"Uncle Fran—" Francis slapped the back of his head. "Fuck! OK! Sorry! That really hurt!"

"You're such an idiot," Francis muttered as he lit another cigarette.

"You kind of remind of Elizabeta," Gilbert said. "Both of you are so disrespectful of my awesomeness." He reached up to snatch the cigarette from between Francis's lips.

"Hey! That was mine!"

Gilbert blew a cloud of smoke in his face. "You've already gone through half a pack and we haven't even been here for two hours. I'm surprised you don't have lung cancer already. So, do you have any other secret nieces or nephews running around?"

"No, just Angelique. She was my sister's only child."

Gilbert picked at a small hole in his shirt. "So that's who you lost. When did she die?"

"…five years ago."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You might as well."

"Why doesn't Angelique live with you?"

Francis gave him a bitter smile. "I get to see Angelique twice a year and up until she was fourteen she begged me on every single visit to let her stay. But I said no and sent her back each time. She doesn't ask anymore but I can see it in her eyes that this is where she wants to be."

"Then why not let her stay?"

"Because I can't give her what she needs! I don't have a career and the fancy degree I wasted my money on is useless. It's only our history that keeps Olympe from firing me and the money I make barely pays the rent for the shithole I live in. I can't buy her nice clothes or fancy things. My life is unstable and most of the time I don't really care. I would rather spend my time watching boats sail past on the Seine than look for a 'real job'. I'm not a good person and I'm definitely not good for her. I just wish she would realize that."

"Bullshit."

Francis raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Bullshit. I don't think Angelique gives a fuck whether or not you can buy her fancy stuff. And you said yourself that she's been visiting twice a year for the past five years. If she really thought you were a bad person I don't think she would be doing that."

"You don't understand the extent of the situation."

"I think you're just making excuses."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

They were glaring at each other when Angelique came running. She was out of breath and panting as she slid to a stop in front of them.

"You…you two need…to come with me…now!"

"What the emergency?" Francis asked anxiously.

"There's….there's….a raffle!"

"A…raffle?"

Angelique sucked in a deep breath and all but yelled, "A woman from the Yvon Lambert Gallery is here and she's raffling off 6 tickets to K.A.R.A's showing tonight!"

Gilbert groaned. "Not this again."

Angelique grabbed Francis's hands and pulled him to his feet. "We need to go now. The drawing is in twenty minutes!"

"Hold on a second," Francis said. "How much is each raffle ticket?"

Angelique shifted nervously under his gaze. "€100."

"You have to be kidding me. No way."

"Please Francis! Please please please please!"

"No."

"But you're saving so much money! Tickets to the showing are being auctioned on eBay for over €15,000!"

"I'm sorry but I don't have €100 just lying around. And the chance of you actually winning is extremely slim. Since when are you such a big fan of K.A.R.A anyway?"

"Since forever! Francis I swear to God I will do anything. I'll wash the dishes, I'll clean the whole apartment! I'll even leave in two weeks instead of three if that's what you want!"

Francis's mouth fell open. "Why would you think that I would want that?"

Angelique shrugged. "Because it always seems like whenever I'm here I'm only a bother to you…"

Francis sighed. He ignored Gilbert who was mouthing "asshole" to him over Angelique's shoulder.

"The last thing you are is a bother. I only get to see you six weeks a year. I spend the other 46 weeks waiting for you to come back. Look, if you really want to see K.A.R.A's gallery, I'll buy you a raffle ticket but I have nothing on me right now. I need to run to the bank."

Angelique threw herself in his arms. "Oh Francis! You're absolutely wonderful! But can you make it back in twenty minutes?"

Francis smirked. "I run fast when I need to."

"You don't need to run anywhere. I'll pay for the tickets," Gilbert said. "I'll even buy two."

Angelique gasped. "Are you serious?"

Francis frowned. "I don't need your charity Gilbert."

"Only my brother donates to charity. This is a loan. You owe me."

"I'm not paying you €200!"

"You only have to pay €100. The other ticket is for me."

"But you hate K.A.R.A! You said so yourself!"

"So? That doesn't mean I can't go and see what everyone is pissing their pants about. Let's go buy those raffle tickets."

Angelique was jumping up and down by now. "Thank you Gilbert! Thank you so much!"

Francis was still frowning but he muttered a reluctant, "Thank you."

A large crowd had already gathered around where the raffle was being held. Angelique pushed her way through, leading them to the front. On a stand, a large crystal bowl, almost overflowing with bright pink tickets, had been placed. Next to it stood a woman in a bright purple suit with wild curly hair. In her hands was a large roll of tickets. She smiled widely when she saw Angelique.

"You're back! And you brought your fathers! Lovely!"

Angelique had to catch Francis before he collapsed onto the ground and Gilbert only snickered behind his hand.

"They're not my fathers. This is my Uncle and his friend," Angelique said quickly.

The woman laughed. "Oh, well my mistake! So, have you brought the money? The drawing is in fifteen minutes!"

Gilbert stepped up and pulled out his wallet. He rarely carried cash but had decided to withdraw €500 of 'emergency funds' the day Vash had sent him running around the cities' banks. It was amazing that he hadn't spent any of it yet.

He pulled out €200. "Two tickets," he said.

"Oh, lovely!" The woman ripped off three tickets.

"But we only asked for two," Angelique said.

"Buy two, get one free sweetie!" the woman said.

"Oh my God!" Angelique screamed. "Thank you so much Gilbert!"

Gilbert shrugged but couldn't suppress a smug smile. "I'm just an awesome person like that."

"Now, just right down your information." The woman gave them each a ticket and pen. When they finished writing they dropped the tickets in the bowl. "Excellent! May the odds be in your favor!"

Fifteen minutes was almost too long to wait for Angelique, who wouldn't stop bouncing in excitement.

"I don't know if I can handle this," she said when the woman called out to the crowd that she would now be drawing the names. There were three sets of two tickets available. The first set went to a Mathias Køhler, who let out a large whoop. He dragged to the front what must have been his family, as well as their dog, to accept the tickets. The next winner was…

"Gilbert Beilschmidt."

Gilbert wondered if he had heard correctly. Next to him Angelique had stopped breathing. Francis's mouth had fallen open.

"Is this a Gilbert Beilschmidt here?" the woman asked. "Please come and accept your tickets."

"YOU WON!" Angelique screamed and threw her arms around him. "You won! You won! Oh my God, you won!"

Around them people started clapping. Gilbert felt someone push him forward. He looked and saw it was Francis, a small smile on his lips.

"You heard her, go and accept your prize."

Gilbert didn't believe in luck or fate or destiny, not when his grandfather had taught him that those things didn't exist when money was involved. Yet, as he walked back up the front, Angelique's cries and delight in the background, he couldn't help but wonder if the cosmos had other plans in mind for him.

.

.

.

"Are you sure you want us to have them? You won them and you paid for them!"

"I never had any intention of going to some stupid art gallery." Gilbert said.

Angelique took the tickets out of her purse to look at them for the third time in five minutes. "I still can't believe I'm going to see K.A.R.A!" She spun in excitement, her blue dress whirling with her.

"You're really sure you don't want to go?" Francis asked.

"Trust me. I would be miserable. Now run along, the show starts in an hour."

"I don't think I could ever thank you enough for this Gilbert," Angelique said, her eyes glassy.

"It's no problem at all."

From outside came a honking sound.

"Angelique, go to the taxi and tell the driver that I'll be there in a minute," Francis said.

"Okay. Thank you so so _so_ much again Gilbert." She gave him one last hug before running out the door.

"You have made a little girl very happy today," Francis said.

"I think I might have been a saint or something in a past life. I just bring the awesome everywhere I go," Gilbert said.

"I'm sure..."

"You look very nice in that tux, by the way."

"I know. Anyway, before I go, I suppose I should say thank you for doing what you did."

"You better use this opportunity wisely. Let her know you care, okay?"

Francis sighed. "Yeah." He turned to go. "Oh, and I'll pay you back tomorrow."

"I never said you owed me _money._"

Francis's eyes widened but then he laughed. "You are terrible. So, what do you want?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. Now go. Kara awaits."

"K.A.R.A."

"Fuck you. Go!"

"Okay, okay! I'll see you tomorrow then."

"It's a date," Gilbert said quietly to himself when Francis was gone.

The side door slid open and out came Olympe, a camera in her hands.

"Oh no! They're already gone? I wanted to take a picture of Angelique."

"You just missed them."

Olympe sighed. "Well, maybe when they get back. I still can't believe you won those tickets. You are a very lucky person."

Gilbert shrugged. "Maybe."

* * *

If it wasn't for the fact that in the morning the neat bed from the night before was a jumble of blankets, Gilbert might have begun to think Elizabeta really had left him. He hadn't seen her in four days. He had planned on catching her the previous night but had ended up going to a bar with the exchange students, Patricia and Jack. It had been an extremely surprising invitation since he had thought that there existed an acknowledged dislike between them and him but he had agreed nonetheless and had spent the night watching two Americans with no tolerance at all dance on the bar top singing "American Pie" and "Uptown Girl" in multiple languages. He had gotten back to his room at 2 a.m., not drunk enough not to notice Elizabeta still wasn't there, but too drunk to do anything except fall onto his cot and almost immediately slip into a dreamless sleep. In the morning he woke up alone with a hangover, the sound of knocking filling his ears. It took him a few seconds to realize that the noise was coming from the door and not inside his head.

Groaning, Gilbert got to his feet and stumbled to the door. He opened it and found Angelique looking fresh and sunny.

"Good afternoon!" she said happily.

Gilbert winced and clutched his head. "Too loud."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Are you hung over? Olympe said you might be."

"Mmm, yeah…think I am…time?"

"Almost 14:00."

"Too early."

Angelique laughed and Gilbert winced again.

"I just came to tell you that Francis will be gone for the day. He went to Champagne-Ardenne on an errand for Olympe. Apparently, the wine cellar here is completely empty."

"Fuck…wine…shitty. What do I now? And Liz is gone again. Fuck."

"Sorry, I don't speak German."

"I can't remember any French right now, sorry," Gilbert managed in English. "Fuck, my head."

"I don't understand. If you knew this would happen in the morning then why did you drink so much?"

"Because I could." Gilbert yawned. "So, do you want to hang out?"

"Really?" Angelique asked in surprise.

"Yeah, since we both got ditched, why not? You can tell me about Kara."

"K.A.R.A."

"Don't start. It's too early and my head really hurts."

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, I have an idea. Go ask Olympe for some painkillers. I'll meet you downstairs in a few minutes."

After he had showered and gotten dressed, his head hurt a little less but Gilbert still enthusiastically accepted the pills Olympe presented to him as well as the leftovers from lunch. He spent the rest of the afternoon in the garden with Angelique, only half listening as she told him every little detail about the previous night.

"There were so many people!"

"They even served food!"

"The decorations were so pretty!"

"And K.A.R.A was there and she looked so amazing!"

"All her work looked amazing!"

"I got my picture taken! Twice!"

She went on to the point that Gilbert thought she was in danger of losing her voice.

"So, I'm going to assume you had a good time," Gilbert said when she had finished.

She laughed. "It was the best night of my life. Now I have two things to be eternally grateful to you for."

"Wait, what's the other one?"

"Ever since my mother died, Francis has more or less become a hermit. He only leaves his apartment to go to work and avoids people in general. I think he's afraid of getting close to someone. So I want to thank you for being his first friend in a long time. "

"I'm touched. Really, I am. I just kinda feel like he doesn't like me all that much though."

Angelique shook her head. "Don't worry, he does. I can tell. He'll never admit it but he really needs a friend right now. I hate that he spends most of his time alone."

"You worry about him a lot, don't you?"

"Every day. That's why I wish I could stay here with him. But there really is no point of asking _that_ question anymore. I'll be 18 in two years though and whether he likes it or not, I'm going to university here. Don't tell him I said that though or he'll move to Siberia or something, the jerk."

"He really cares about you. He's…he's just worried about not being good enough." Gilbert felt slightly guilty about revealing this information but thought it was for the best.

"I know. He told me that last night on the way home from the gallery. He really is an idiot to think I would be so shallow like that. We have a lot of problems to work through, Francis and I, a lot of hurts to heals, but I think we'll be OK, in time."

"They say all wounds heal in time."

Angelique smiled. "I believe that." Suddenly she looked nervous. "Hey, can I ask you something? It's not really important b-but I just thought it would be cool."

"Go ahead."

"Can…can you teach me some German?"

Until Olympe came out to tell them dinner was ready, Gilbert taught her the very basics of German, as well as every swear word he knew. So, at dinner, when Jack said he thought Gilbert was an absolutely despicable person for taking him and Patricia to the bar the previous night, Gilbert turned to Angelique and she said proudly, "Fick dich."

Francis didn't get back until almost midnight. Gilbert and Angelique kept themselves entertained by streaming movies on her laptop. They were halfway through _Braveheart_ when Francis walking into the reading room.

"You're back!" Angelique said happily. "How was Champagne-Ardenne?"

"Beautiful. You should be in bed."

"I'm not twelve anymore!"

"So? Go get your things, we're leaving in five minutes."

"Verdammt," Angelique grumbled as she stomped out of the room.

Francis raised an eyebrow. "What have you been teaching her?"

Gilbert tried to look innocent, "Just some vocabulary. I can't believe you spent the whole day buying shitty wine."

"What do you have against wine?"

"I prefer beer."

"I'm not surprised."

"Are you forgetting something?"

"What?"

"Your debt to me."

Francis sighed. "Oh, that. Go on then, tell me what you want."

"I was thinking dinner—stop making that face, I wasn't done. Not just us, but with your darling niece as well."

"Are you some kind of sicko?"

"T-That's not what I meant! Fuck you, pervert! I meant a wholesome, friendly, dinner. As friends. We can be friends, right?"

"…maybe. Not very good friends though."

"We'll be bad friends then. Do you have any restaurant suggestions?"

"I'll do you one better. I'll cook."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, 19:00 tomorrow. Ask Olympe for my address. Don't be late."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

.

.

.

Gilbert arrived at Francis's apartment the next evening five minutes late. The building was tiny and so old the paint on the exterior was chipping. He knocked warily on the battered-looking wooden door.

Angelique swung open the door seconds later. She had flour on her cheeks and in her hair. "We're making a feast!" she announced happily.

"Is that Gilbert?" Francis appeared behind Angelique. He was wearing an apron that said 'Kiss the Cook'.

"Is that an invitation?" Gilbert asked, pointing.

Francis made a face. "It was her idea," he said. "And no it is not."

"I brought gifts, by the way." Gilbert pulled out from behind his back a bouquet of twelve long-stem red roses. "Stop making that face Francis, they're not for you." He handed them to Angelique. "They're for her. She was such awesome company yesterday."

"T-thank you!" Angelique said, looking very embarrassed.

"And in my other hand I have—" Gilbert pulled out a bottle of red wine. "Don't ask me how much it cost. I'm trying to forget."

Francis took the bottle from him and examined the label. "I'm surprised. This is a really good bottle. I didn't expect that from you."

"I'm full of surprises."

"I'm beginning to see that. Come in. Dinner will be done in an hour."

They wouldn't let Gilbert into the kitchen, so he was forced to pace around the small living room. A table, a couch and an ancient looking television had been crammed into it. The apartment itself was much tinier than he had expected. The kitchen was more or less just an extension of the living room, separated by a curtain. Next to it was the bedroom. Gilbert peeked inside and found that it was barely larger than a well-sized closet.

"See anything you like?"

Gilbert jumped. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Don't go poking around where you shouldn't," Francis snapped. "I just came to ask if you were allergic to anything."

"Nope. Nothing. Are you almost done? I'm starving."

"Patience is a virtue. What do you think of the place?"

"…tiny."

"Well we can't all live in mansions like you, Mr. Beilschmidt."

Something about the way he said this made Gilbert realize he wasn't just teasing. "Wait…you knew?"

"Who you are? Of course I knew."

"Well most people don't. Usually they recognize my brother, but not me."

"You were on the cover on one of these useless tabloid magazines a few years ago. I mostly remembered the hair."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why would I?"

"Because I'm rich! _Really_ rich!"

"What's your point?"

Gilbert stared at him. "You don't care?"

"Am I supposed to?"

"Yes. Most people do."

"Look, I'm the type of person who enjoys the beautiful things in life. Beautiful places, beautiful people. I don't really care for money. Besides, you would still be annoying no matter how much money you had."

"You really surprise me Francis."

Francis grinned. "I'm full of surprises," he said before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Dinner was served half an hour later. They all crowded around the table in the living room. Angelique begged to sample the wine until Francis gave in and filled a tiny glass for her.

"This is amazing," Gilbert said as he ate. "You need to meet my friend Antonio. He's from Spain. His cooking is great, but I think you just kicked his ass."

"I _am_ French," Francis said smugly. "I would say the Spanish are second after us in terms of cuisine."

"I like Italian," Angelique piped up.

"What about German?" Gilbert asked.

"All you eat are potatoes and sausages."

"That's not true! Well…it's half true, b-but we have other things too!"

"Like beer."

"Yes, like beer!"

"You eat a lot of bread too. And chocolate."

"Potatoes, sausages, beer, bread and chocolate," Francis said. "Wow, German food is so diverse."

"Fuck you. I take everything back. Your food sucks."

"Then stop eating it."

"I'll eat what I want. What's for dessert?"

"You two are so funny," Angelique said. "I made madeleines."

…

"Have you ever washed dishes in your life Beilschmidt?" Francis asked as he wiped down the counter for the second time.

Gilbert dried the plate in his hand with a towel. "Once, when the dishwasher in my apartment broke. It was terrible."

Claiming that she was tired from eating too much, Angelique had gone to lie down, leaving Francis and Gilbert to the many dishes and pots. Gilbert had used too much soap and the whole sink was now a sea of bubbles that kept overflowing.

"How about I just wash and you just dry?"

"Fine by me. Tonight was awesome by the way. Angelique is a really good cook. You could learn a thing or two from her."

Francis flicked water at him. "You're hilarious."

"Yeah, I know. I was really expecting to have the worst time here, in Paris, but it's turning out to be much better than I ever thought it could be. I wonder what Liz is doing now..."

"You still haven't seen her?"

"No, but I'm not worried anymore. It's probably better off this way. She needed the time to herself. A text message wouldn't have hurt though."

"Speaking of texts, do you still have the one you were supposed to delete?"

"…yes."

"Do you ever plan on deleting it?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Who knows, who cares. It really isn't important anymore."

"If you say so. I forgot to tell you, I finished _Eat, Pray, Love_."

"Was it any good?"

"I thought so."

"So tell me the moral of the story."

"Attraversiamo."

"Liz speaks Italian, not me."

"It means 'Let's cross over'."

"Cross over from what?"

"The street of course. However, I think the deeper meaning, at least for Gilbert, was that it means let's cross over from whatever you're ready to leave behind."

"So did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Attravermoso or whatever. Cross over and leave the bad shit behind?"

Francis paused, a wet plate still in his hand. "I think I'm getting there. I'm looking forward to new beginnings."

"Aren't we all? Is that the last plate?"

Francis felt around in the soapy water. "Yes. That's it."

"Thank God." Gilbert said. He hastily rubbed the down the plate and added to the stack of clean dishes. "Now that we're done, I propose a toast." He grabbed two of the recently washed wineglasses. He picked up the wine bottle from the counter; it was nearly down to halfway.

"To what?"

"To me. I'm kidding. How about to this whole week? For not being as shitty as I thought it would be."

"If we must."

Gilbert filled the two glasses and handed one to Francis. "Oh and to attamerosa."

"Attraversiamo."

"Whatever." Gilbert tipped back the wine.

Francis didn't drink his immediately. He was looking at Gilbert with a strange expression, as if he was seeing something for the first time. Then a look of horror crossed his face and the wine glass slipped from his hands.

"Fuck!" he yelled. "This is just fucking perfect. No! Don't!" Gilbert had been in the process of bending down to pick up the glass. "Don't touch it. Just…you know what? Maybe you should go now. I've been on my feet all day and I'm exhausted."

"Um, okay? Are you feeling alright? You looked really out of it a few seconds ago."

"I'm fine. Just tired. I will, uh, see you tomorrow. Thanks for coming by."

"Uh, sure. Tell Angelique I said bye."

"Yeah." By now, Francis had gone pale.

"You sure you're OK?"

Francis gave him a forced smile. "Perfect."

But when Gilbert was halfway out the door, he turned back and saw Francis staring at the red stain in the carpet, muttering to himself so quietly that he couldn't hear what he was saying. In the span of a few minutes something had changed and he had a feeling it wasn't for the better.

* * *

_WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?_

Gilbert hit 'send' and the text message went to Elizabeta's phone. He doubted she would reply. This was the fifth text he had sent her in the past hour and she hadn't replied to any of them so far. Now, more than ever, Gilbert needed to talk to her. The weird ending to what had seemed like a perfect evening the day before had left him with a complex array of emotions that he knew only she would really be able to understand.

Just _where_ had Elizabeta gone?

Gilbert was walking back from his usual breakfast when he ran into Olympe.

"I've been looking for you," she said. "Francis called me earlier today. He wanted me to ask you if you could meet him later this evening. Around 20:00?"

Gilbert felt his pulse quicken. "Did he say why?"

"To talk. Will you be available then?"

"Yeah, tell him that's fine. Where does he want to meet?"

"He just said to be in the lobby at 20:00."

"I'll be there then."

Gilbert spent the rest of the day waiting anxiously. He wandered around the city, with really nowhere to go and not really going anywhere. When 20:00 finally rolled around he returned to the bed and breakfast. There were a few people in the lobby when he stepped inside. There was a couple checking in at the front desk and in the back, Jack and Patricia were examining the old cuckoo clock, debating its date of origin. Gilbert wiped his palms on the leg of his pants and wondered why he was suddenly so nervous.

At exactly 20:05, Elizabeta walked into the lobby. He was more than a little surprised to see her and was about to call out to her when he saw that she wasn't alone. Next to her walked Francis. Neither seemed to notice him and from where he was standing he couldn't make out what they were saying. He was just starting towards them when Francis suddenly leaned down and kissed Elizabeta.

It was like a painful punch in the gut and for a few seconds Gilbert couldn't breathe. When he pulled away, Francis caught his eye over Elizabeta's shoulder and gave him a cruel smile and winked. Then he whispered something in Elizabeta's ear before walking back down the hall. Elizabeta turned at that moment and saw Gilbert. She gasped and went pale.

"O-Oh no...no no no! Gilbert...it's not what you think! Please, just listen!"

But Gilbert was already halfway out the door. By some cruel twist of fate a taxi was parked right outside the building. He didn't hesitate and climbed in.

"Fucking drive!" He ordered.

The taxi driver stepped on the gas and they pulled away from the curb. Gilbert could faintly hear Elizabeta calling after him but he didn't turn around.

"Where to?" the taxi driver asked.

Gilbert reached into his wallet and pulled out the remaining €300. He handed everything to the driver. "To wherever this will take me."

* * *

**A/N:** I thought it was about time Gilbert got a chapter to himself :) Sorry for the terrible cliffhanger. I planned to write more but then I realized that this chapter was already obnoxiously long OTL

So my winter break starts in a few weeks and I will try very hard to get the next chapter up during that time but no promises. I have two other fics that are in desperate need of updates. But I'll do my best! Thank you all for being so patient and please continue to be patient.

**ONE MORE THING! **There's a poll on my profile page that I would be extremely pleased if you guys checked out. It guarantees absolutely nothing, I'm just curious about your opinions. Thank you!

-with love

dancer


	11. France: Day 61 - 68

**A/N:** I was not expecting to finish this chapter for at least a few weeks but I had time on my hands so I said, 'why the hell not?' I hope you guys enjoy it! As usual, thanks for all the lovely reviews!

Also, I was very **very** pleased by the results of the poll on my page. It's still open, so if you haven't voted, please do so! I wasn't surprised by the leader but I hadn't expected all the variety in answers. Yay! I'm especially curious about what pairing the people who voted "other" meant. Hmmm? Anyway, enough from me. Enjoy the chapter!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

******Extra Notes:** **Olympe = Monaco, Angelique = Seychelles**

* * *

_France:_

_Day 61 - 68_

_July 4th,_

_Dear Roderich,_

_I'm very sorry for not writing sooner. Life has been...complicated to say the least. Everything with Lovino turned out to be disaster. Please don't ask for details._

_Also, I did something terrible last week and I lost Gilbert because of it. But he's back now and I'm trying to patch our friendship back together. I might actually have to leave him soon. Again, it's complicated, but I made a promise. Honestly, I'm a little scared to travel alone, but I will if I have to. Unless you're willing to come along? I'm just kidding. I know you would never want to pay for travel expenses. I know leaving Gilbert isn't going to be easy, but as long as he's happy, I'll be okay._

_How goes life with you?_

_Sincerely,_

_Elizabeta_

_P.S- Do you know K.A.R.A? I met her today! She even invited Gilbert and I and some friends to a private dinner! She's so nice! Kind of weird, but nice!_

_P.S.S- I know you hate texting but I haven't decided exactly where to go next. At first I was thinking London but Gilbert said that was too mainstream. If I end up having to leave him I still might end up there. Anyway, I'll text you the address of where I'm staying next when I get there!_

* * *

_Elizabeta_

Elizabeta stood powerlessly at the side of the street calling after the taxi Gilbert had gotten into. It didn't stop or turn around but kept going until at last it went around the corner and vanished from sight. A light rain had begun to fall but Elizabeta didn't realize it until a passing man offered her his umbrella. She mumbled something in careless French and hurried back inside the bed and breakfast. If anything, the lobby had only become more crowded and it seemed to her, as she pushed her way through, that everyone was staring at her with looks of disapproval, silently judging her for what she had done. She kept her head down and avoided meeting anyone's eye. There was only person she needed to see at that moment.

She found Francis in the music room. He was leaning against the baby grand piano, a freshly lit cigarette settled between his lips. When he saw her he smirked and she felt her anger level spike. Already her hands were shaking.

"Have you returned for another kiss or perhaps something mo—"

She didn't give him a chance to finish. She punched him with all the strength she could muster. His head snapped back as her fist connected with his face and he fell back against the wall with a loud thud. Groaning, he slid down to the floor, his hands covering his face.

"You tricked me!" She yelled down at him. "You fucking tricked me! After everything I told you! How could you do that to me? How could you do that to Gilbert?" She wanted to pull him back to his feet and punch him again but she forced herself to keep calm and talk slowly. "I'm not up to date on the manner of your relationship with Gilbert but from what I've heard from Olympe, you two have spent a lot of time together this past week. That could mean both everything and nothing but…but his face after you…" She shuddered, overcome with choking guilt. "I've never seen him look like that. He looked so…pained. How could you hurt him like that?"

Francis lowered his hands from his face and she saw that there was a fine stream of blood running from his nose. "So, this is all my fault, is it?" he asked. His voice was steady and this unnerved Elizabeta. "I don't recall you putting up much resistance when I kissed you." Francis smirked. "Could it be that you enjoyed it?"

Elizabeta reached down and grabbed him by his shirt collar. She pulled him up so that they were eye level and then slammed him against the wall.

"Fuck you," she said viciously. "I had no idea you were going to do that. You caught me off guard."

"So I didn't feel you kissing me back?"

Elizabeta raised her hand but Francis didn't even flinch. The front of his shirt was stained with blood and more was dripping down his face.

"I can't believe I ever thought you were a good person. I told you my secrets! I trusted you!" she said before she let go of his shirt. Francis collapsed back down onto the ground.

"I think you might have broken my nose, love," he muttered heavily.

"Good. Come near me ever again and your nose won't be the only thing I break." She turned to go but then paused. "At least tell me why you did it. I know Gilbert isn't the easiest person to get along with but do you hate him that much?"

Francis wiped the blood from his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. "No, I don't hate him," he said quietly.

"Then why hurt him like that? And tell me the truth, you owe me that much."

Francis didn't speak for a few seconds but finally he said, "Sometimes…we do things that we know will hurt the people we care about because it's the only option we have, whether to keep them safe or to keep both of us from getting hurt even worse later. Surely, you of all people can understand that, considering your own recent experiences."

Elizabeta frowned. "I don't know what you mean."

Francis only smiled at her. "That's the point, I suppose." He pulled himself to his feet and walked out the door without another word.

It took Elizabeta a few seconds to realize that his last words had been spoken in Italian. As much as she would have liked to go after him and find out exactly what he had meant, she didn't have the luxury of time to do so. She hurried back to her room. Her heart sunk a little when she opened the door and found the room empty. She hadn't expected him to be there but still, she had hoped…

"What have I done?" she whispered aloud. "Just what have I done?"

She went over to the bedside table and pulled a key out of her pocket. She unlocked the drawer and slid it open. The only thing inside was her cellphone, which she quickly snatched up and turned on. It felt strange to be holding it once more after so long without it. The phone had barely finished powering up when a message alert appeared on the screen. She had 25 missed calls, 13 new voicemails and 42 new text messages. Most were from her mother and Gilbert and there was one message from Antonio. Elizabeta sat on the bed and began to scroll through the messages Gilbert had sent her.

"_WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?" _had been the latest one sent from him, just that afternoon.

Where had she been? If only there was a simple answer to that question. She had come to Paris plagued by feelings she didn't quite understand. Gilbert had said she was suffering from heartbreak, which she had vehemently denied to both him and herself. For someone to be heartbroken, didn't that require them to feel some sort of romantic inclination for the person that had broken their heart? She couldn't deny that she had cared about Lovino, and still cared despite what had happened, but it was beyond her to think that she was in love with him. The thought made her head spin and her palms sweat. It was only ridiculous because it was just so unexpected. She had stopped believing in the idea that love was a flashy and flamboyant event and knew that it did often come upon people unawares, but she hadn't thought someone could fall in love without any indication at all that it was happening. There had to be some sign and what better place to find it than Paris, the famed city of _l'amour_?

The first morning she had rolled out of bed with no clear plan in mind. The sun had barely risen when she had stepped onto the streets of Paris with no place to go but still going nonetheless. She had ended up wandering along the Promenade Canal St. Martin for the better part of the day. She had kept to herself and had watched the tour groups, the businessmen and the loners like herself as they walked past her. She paid special attention to the countless number of couples that milled around her, wondering, if by simply observing them, she could find the sign she was looking for. In time, she had discovered that she was in the tenth _arrondissement_, or district, of Paris. Part sleepy suburb, part industrial center and overall a comforting place to be, she had thought to herself over coffee at a tiny Colombian restaurant. When night had fallen she had retreated to the dark, smoky rooms of a lounge bar, ignoring every advance or invitation to step out onto the private patio. Before she had known it, it had been past midnight and she had deemed it late enough to return back to the B&B. As she had fallen onto the bed that night she had suddenly been overcome by the urge to cry. Angrily, she had rubbed her eyes, trying to push back the tears. He wasn't worth it, that was what Gilbert had told her and she knew he was right but it didn't stop her from feeling the way that she did. She fell into a fit full sleep but had still woken up early enough the next morning to slip out without waking Gilbert up. Her second day was spent in the third and fourth districts. She found Notre Dame impressive but overcrowded with tourists. The opened air markets of the third district were much more enjoyable and she bought as much food as she could carry. Then she had a picnic for one in a small park and fell asleep in the shade of a tree. She chose a livelier bar that night but had still sat quietly in the corner, hearing the music but not really listening. She hadn't left until it was almost closing time. Gilbert was already asleep by the time she had arrived back at the room and she had silently slipped into bed. Sleep had come easier that night and she had woken up the next morning feeling strangely refreshed. Already, she was beginning to forget what she was even supposed to be doing in Paris. She caught a ride on a boat that was shuttling people back and forth from the Eiffel Tower. It went past the Louvre, the botanical garden and Notre Dame before going back up the bank past the Musée d'Orsay. When it came time to disembark she asked the boat captain if she could stay on board. To her surprise, he agreed. Her French was flawed, his English was broken, but they carried on a pleasant conversation nonetheless. She found out that he had been sailing his boat up and down the Seine for almost 15 years and it was during one of his many trips that he had met his now wife. It was more or less love at first sight, he had told her happily. Elizabeta had seen the opportunity that had been present to her and took it.

"How did you know you loved her?" she had asked, trying to phrase the words as best she could.

"I just did."

"Yes, but _how?_ What was the sign?"

"I don't think I am understanding what you mean."

Elizabeta had tried to think of the best way she could get her point across the language barrier. "What, uh, told you that she was the one? That she was right for you?"

The man's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Nothing. I just knew."

"But there had to be some sign!" Elizabeta had said exasperated.

The man had laughed. "I think if you spend your time looking for signs, you will be missing what is most important. Does that make sense?"

It had but at the same time she was still confused. Each day it felt as if she was moving farther and farther away from her initial plan.

"I'm looking for true love. I'm on a trip around the world to find it," she had explained in a jumbled mix of French and English. "I don't understand it very well and I was hoping to find it here, but I'm lost on what it looks like."

The man had laughed again. "I am not thinking that it is so easy to find love like that. It is not so easy as turning over rocks to find treasures. Love is a part of life and to find it you must live your life. You must also be patient."

"But the reason I started this trip in the first place was because I wanted to prove that love is not a waiting game!"

"Perhaps you should be rethinking your goals then?"

Elizabeta had sighed and leaned against the boat railing. "I can't just stop now though. I can't go home yet."

"Who said anything about going home? Keep traveling, keep living and I think you will be finding what you are looking for."

She had spent the rest of the day sailing up and down the Seine. She finally parted ways with the boat captain as the sun began to set and thanked him for his advice. He wouldn't take the money she offered him and said her company was enough payment. Instead of another bar, she had chosen an old-fashioned cinema for her evening entertainment. The movie was long and tragic and all in French. She had understood very little of it and thought she was bored until the closing credits rolled onto the screen. Not willing to go back to the B&B just yet, she had bought another ticket and found the movie was better the second time around. Once more she had been late returning back to her room. However, before she had climbed up the stairs she had found Olympe and casually asked about Gilbert. She had been a little surprised when the other woman had told her that Gilbert had spent most the day with Francis.

"It makes me very happy to see Francis with someone," Olympe had said cheerfully. "He needs a good friend and they seem to get along well."

Elizabeta was glad Gilbert was getting on fine without her, but she also a little jealous too. She hoped that Francis would keep him out of any mischief. She had found Francis charming and if she knew Gilbert, which she did very much, she was sure he was flirting up a storm. She had gone to bed that night feeling lighthearted.

On a whim, she had rented a Vespa the next day, which she had hoped would make it easier getting around the expansive city. She had felt a new sense of freedom and exhilaration as she had zoomed down the streets of Paris, doing her best to avoid cars and pedestrians. Around noon she had found herself in the fifth district, also known as the Latin Quarter. She had stopped by an open air marker and had purchased a bag of fruit. Then she had gone to the _Jardin_ _des Plantes_, the Paris Botanical Gardens, which she had heard contained over 10,000 species and even a small zoo. A few hours later, she had taken a small break from her explorations and had found an empty bench to rest upon. A little bit away from her had been a man passing out bright red roses to passing woman and even, on the younger and more willing women, managing to sneak in a kiss on the hand or cheek. Elizabeta had ignored him, hoping he would ignore her as well, and had turned her attention to the map of Paris Olympe had given her that morning. However, it was not long before she had felt a shadow fall upon her. With a small sigh she had looked up and found the man smiling down at her. He was very good looking with dark brown hair and honey-brown eyes. His tanned skin hinted that he was from somewhere south but she hadn't know that he was Italian until he started speaking.

"For the loveliest woman I've seen all day," he had said in that accented English she had become so familiar with in Palermo, "the loveliest rose I have."

She had taken the rose before she had known what she was doing. "_Grazie_," she had whispered softly.

The man's face had lit up. "You speak my language?" he had asked in Italian.

"Yes," Elizabeta had given him a small smile. "Or at least I try to."

"I don't think I've ever heard a more beautiful sound than those words from your mouth. You speak it wonderfully. Thank you. You have made me very happy today." He had leaned down and, before she could stop him, kissed her lightly on the cheek. Then he had whispered softly in her ear, "Ciao." He had straightened back up, given her one last smile and then gone to go distribute the rest of the roses.

Elizabeta had stared down at the rose in her hand, not understanding why her vision was becoming more and more blurry until the tears began to roll down her face. She had told herself that she wouldn't cry. She hated crying. It was all wetness and no comfort. But she had found that she couldn't stop. She had felt pathetic, sitting there by herself on a bench in the middle of a botanical garden, sobbing because a handsome Italian man had given her a rose. People had stared at her as they walked past. She had heard their whispers but she didn't move from her spot. A few minutes later a teenage girl had come up to her and timidly asked her why she was crying.

She had answered pitifully, "I think I've accidentally fallen in love with someone."

"But isn't that a good thing?"

"Not when the person you love hates you."

"I-I'm sorry," the girl had said quickly before hurrying away.

"Me too," Elizabeta had said to herself.

All the happiness had gone from that day but she still made herself get up early the next morning to continue her journey around Paris. Before she had set out she had laid out her map of Paris, closed her eyes and pointed. When she opened her eyes she found that she had chosen the 13th district of Paris. She had flipped through her guidebook and found that this district contained the _Bibliothèque Nationale de France_, the National Library. Its southern sector was also known was the "China town" of Paris and thought to be one of the largest in Europe. She had obtained a day pass to the library and had spent hours casually flipping through historic documents of both French and international origin. When she had grown bored of this she had gone to a Thai restaurant for a complete dinner that cost her approximately €35. For the first time that week she had realized just how much money she had been spending. Normally, she would have been angry at herself for such careless use of money but she had only paid her bill and left the restaurant. Her last stop that day had been the Pont Simone de Beauvoir pedestrian bridge that went over the Seine. She had like the wavelike design of the bridge and the fact that there weren't many people in the area. She had smoked recklessly while leaning against the railing, trying to figure out what to do with herself now. There was no going back, that was obvious, but going forward wasn't so simple either. At the same time, she couldn't continue doing what she was doing, flitting from one section of the city to another, spending money on a Vespa, overpriced food and passes to boring museums. The past five days had essentially been a distraction for her, to avoid having to confront the reality that she had indeed found love (or had it found her?) but it was fruitless to believe that it would ever be reciprocated. So the question was, what next? She had gone back to the bed and breakfast late that evening with no clear answer.

The next morning she had finally gone to the Eiffel Tower. It was her last stop and she had wanted to save the best for last. The view had been breathtaking but she found that she preferred walking through the city than seeing it from above so soon she had become fidgety. She had happily returned back down to the ground and after a quick lunch, headed back to the B&B, deciding that she was finally ready to talk to Gilbert. She had been crossing the lobby when she had run into Francis. Initially, she had been happy to see him.

"I heard from Olympe that you and Gilbert have been spending a lot of time together. What have you been up to?" she had asked, grinning widely.

Francis had shrugged. "Not much. What about yourself? You've done a good very good job of hiding away these past few days."

"I've just been exploring the city."

"That's all? Why didn't you take Gilbert with you?"

"It was better that I went alone."

Francis had given her a knowing smile and asked teasingly, "Are you keeping secrets from him?"

"Everyone has secrets."

"Tell me yours."

"Why should I?"

"Because I'm a very good listener."

"I hardly know you."

"Even better. I'll be less likely to judge you."

Elizabeta had hesitated before answering, "I…I can't tell you everything. But I can tell you most of it. Can we go somewhere private?"

"I know just the place."

He had taken her to a beautiful walled garden, which had instantly made her feel more at ease. Initially, she spoke cautiously and tried to be vague with names and details but soon she was telling him everything. She had told him about going to Palermo to help Lovino and the dangers that she had found there. She had told him about Alessandro and how, with one look, he had swept her off her feet. She had told him about how she had run for life through the dark alleys of the city and how she had nearly been killed in the church fire. As she had told her story she had realized that after keeping everything pent up for so long she had reached a point where she needed to share her secrets with someone or they are were going to make her go crazy. So she had told Francis her secrets. How she had worried nonstop about Lovino once she left Palermo, how happy she had been when he called and how crushed she had been, and still was, when they had parted. Everything spilled from her mouth and even if she had wanted to, she couldn't have stopped herself. She had wanted someone else, someone besides Gilbert, to know how she was feeling. She had wanted someone else to tell her that everything would be okay. She had concluded her story by saying that she knew now that she was in love with Lovino but understood that he wanted nothing to do with her. She had stumbled over this part and, for a second, thought she would cry again. But then she had taken a deep breath and, with a small smile, asked Francis if he thought she was crazy.

"I wouldn't blame you if you did," she had said.

Francis had been quiet and attentive the whole time that she had been telling her story. A few times he had looked as if he had wanted to say something but had remained silent. Now, he returned her smile and replied, "You've certainly been through a lot. I don't think you're crazy at all. In fact, I think you've handled everything better than most people in your situation. It's not my place to tell you what to do next and I can't say if everything is going to be okay, but I'm pretty sure that whatever comes your way, you'll be able to deal with it."

He had won her over with his words and she had trusted him. He had asked more about her trip and she had eagerly told him all the details. It was early evening when he had suggested that they go back inside for dinner. She had wondered aloud where Gilbert was as they walked into the lobby and Francis had replied casually that he was sure that he was around somewhere.

The kiss has been a complete surprise. She should have moved away instantly but her mind had gone blank and any attempt to make a coherent thought had been fruitless. If she had kissed him back it had been purely a physiological response. She told herself this so she wouldn't have to consider the other possibility. That she had wanted him to kiss her, from the moment that they had sat down to talk, not to hurt Gilbert, but because she had hoped she would be able to feel something other than the pain in her chest she had finally admitted to herself was heartbreak. Except she had felt nothing but shock and guilt, which had been magnified when Francis had whispered her ear that she should turn around. Seeing Gilbert standing there, with that terrible look on his face—part horror, part disbelief—had caused her to realize the gravity of the mistake she had just made. And now Gilbert was gone and she couldn't even start guessing as to where.

Not knowing what else to do she dialed his number. Almost instantly she was directed to voicemail. She tried twice more but the result was the same. She was about to turn off her phone when it started ringing. In excitement she dropped it twice and finally answered it on the last ring.

"Hello? Gilbert is that you? Where are you?" she said quickly.

"No, it's Ludwig."

Elizabeta's shoulder's sagged. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Most people aren't exactly thrilled when I call them."

"No, it's not that. It's just…I did something horrible and now Gilbert's gone and for all I know he's on his way to the airport as we speak. He's not answering his phone either so there's no way I can stop him or apologize. Not that he would listen anyway." She sighed. "And I wouldn't blame him either."

"Well, I guess I have good news for you then. I know where my brother is and I was actually calling you because of that. You see, I arranged it so that whenever more than €1,000 is taken from his account in a 24-hour time span I get a phone call. I just received one a few minutes ago. Apparently he's checked himself into the Ritz Carlton and has already generated a sizeable bill. I was just about to close his account when I decided to at least find out what had caused him to do such a stupid thing. He's not answering his phone so I hoped you would be able to explain the situation."

"No! Please don't close his account! He's only there because of me. Please, give me time to talk to him."

"Could you tell me exactly what happened between you two?"

Elizabeta bit her lip. "It's sort of a long story."

Suddenly, there came the sound of a crash in the background.

"Fuck." Ludwig said. "Feliciano is awake. I'll call you later. Do what you need to do to get my brother out of that place before he spends all his money." He hung up and Elizabeta let out a sigh of relief. Gilbert was still in Paris. She could still apologize.

She lept off the bed and hurried downstairs. She found Olympe at her desk, flipping through a magazine.

"Olympe! Do you have a number for a taxi company I could call? It's urgent."

Olympe raised her eyes from the magazine and regarded Elizabeta coolly with her blue eyes. Elizabeta didn't have to ask to know that she had seen what had happened. Everyone had seen.

"I need to go after him so I can apologize and explain myself. If you can not hate me for two seconds and give me the number I'll be extremely grateful."

"I don't hate you." Olympe closed the magazine and put it aside. "I warned you about him-Francis. I warned both of you. I guess you can say that this is partially my fault. I know what type of person he is but I thought it would be different this time around. He normally doesn't put up with anyone for more than a day or two. I was shocked, really, when Angelique told me about the dinner."

Elizabeta groaned. "They had dinner together?"

Olympe nodded. "It was a friendly dinner, but dinner nonetheless. When I heard about it, I thought Francis had finally moved on. But I guess he really hasn't changed." She sighed but then her tone became angry. "That idiot. He's probably at home right now smoking and drinking wine until he passes out. It's been five years and he's still acting like this. I know some people take longer than others to heal but this is getting ridiculous. Even Angelique gets on better than he does. He isolates himself from everyone and even when he does come around all I get from him is bitterness and anger and that irritating sarcasm and I just don't know what to do anymore! He thinks he's alone and I just want to scream at him that he's not because I'm here. I will always be here. He's the closest thing I have to a brother and I love him like one. I want him to be happy but he won't let himself be happy. Sometimes I think he actually enjoys being miserable…"

"Olympe, what actually happened to Francis? What happened five years ago?"

"It's not my place to say. You need to ask him yourself."

"I promised myself that I would never speak to him again."

"Please don't hate him. He probably deserves to be hated but you should know the whole story first."

"Well I'm not really in the mood right now to listen to anything he has to say. The only one I want to speak to right now is Gilbert."

Olympe took a scrap piece of paper from one of the desk drawers and scribbled a number onto it. She handed the paper to Elizabeta. "It shouldn't take them more than ten minutes to get here."

"Thank you." Elizabeta pulled out her phone and punched in the number. She gave the person on the other line the address and informed them that she was in a hurry. They promised to be there in the next five minutes.

"You know," Olympe said when Elizabeta hung up the phone, "I think Gilbert actually did make an impression on Francis. He had to have because Francis hasn't smiled like that in years, let alone invite someone over for dinner. But, knowing Francis, it all probably terrified him."

"What is so he afraid of?"

"Losing people. He keeps everyone out, even the people who he's known for years, because he doesn't want to lose them."

"That makes no sense."

"But it does, in a way. If you didn't want to lose someone, and you knew that there is a good chance that you would, wouldn't you think pushing them as far away as possible to be the best solution? So that neither of you would get hurt?"

"No. If you don't want to lose someone you need to fight to keep them."

Olympe gave her a sad smile. "Some things you can't fight against."

"Such as?"

"Death. Your taxi is here. I hope you and Gilbert are able to make up."

"Me too. Thanks again."

The driver was waiting by the taxi when Elizabeta stepped outside. He opened the door for her when she told him who she was.

"Where to Miss?" he asked when he slid into the driver's seat.

"The Ritz Carlton and please hurry." Gilbert could be extremely unpredictable at times. She knew there was a chance he would check into the hotel for a few hours and then change his mind and go to another hotel or even just leave the city. She had to find him as soon as possible.

When the taxi pulled up in front the lavish hotel, Elizabeta asked the driver to wait for her. If everything went as it should then she wouldn't be gone more than twenty minutes. She kept her head high as she walked through the doors of the hotel and tried not to gape. She already felt extremely out of place. She guessed it cost at least €800 a night for the most basic room. She had stayed in nice hotels before but there was a vast difference between 'nice' and 'luxury'. She remembered how casually Gilbert had referred to the Ritz. Casual was the last thing it was.

Warily, Elizabeta approached the front desk. The woman standing behind it was immaculately dressed but she gave Elizabeta a small smile when she saw her.

"_Bienvenue!_ Welcome! Are you checking in now?"

"No, actually I just came to find someone. A friend of mine checked in here earlier this evening and I was wondering if you could tell me which room he's in."

"I'm sorry but I can't reveal such information."

Elizabeta had guessed as much. "Can you at least call him for me? The last name is Beilschmidt. Gilbert Beilschmidt. It's extremely important, please."

"I'll see what I can do," the woman said, much to Elizabeta's relief. She tapped lightly at the keys of the computer in front of her and after a few seconds of scrolling turned back to Elizabeta. "Yes, Mr. Beilschmidt did check in here. He is accepting calls but can I first ask you your name?"

"Elizabeta Hédeváry," Elizabeta said without thinking.

"I'm sorry but you are specifically listed as someone who he would not like to receive calls from."

Elizabeta's jaw dropped. "Are you serious? That's ridiculous."

"I'm sorry but it says right here that if an Elizabeta Hédeváry asks to see or call him we should inform her that he wants no contact with her at this time."

"That little bitch," Elizabeta said viciously. The woman's eyes narrowed so she quickly continued. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. But is there really no way I can see him or leave him a message?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Not even a little note?"

"I think you should be leaving now."

Elizabeta sighed. "Fine, but you tell him I'm not giving up that easily."

"I will be sure not to."

Muttering curses underneath her breath, Elizabeta stomped outside. Thankfully, the taxi was still there.

"Were you able to complete your business Miss?" the driver asked when she climbed inside.

"No. It seems I'll have to try again tomorrow," Elizabeta replied. She didn't know how she was going to do it, but somehow she had to find Gilbert. She had a feeling that some laws might have to broken, but it was a risk that she was willing to take. Because Gilbert was the one person she couldn't bear to lose.

* * *

_Gilbert_

There was a light knock on the door.

"Room Service."

Gilbert lowered the volume on the television and pushed himself off the couch. He had barely been there an hour but he was already enjoying the César Ritz Suite. Among other awesome amenities, he had 24-hour in-room dining, free wireless internet, a flat screen T.V. and a fully stocked mini bar. He had already raided the mini bar and was on his second bottle of wine. The suite was costing him 5,600 euros a night and it was very much worth it. No doubt Ludwig would flip a shit and close his account when he got the bill, but at that moment Gilbert did not care in the least. He didn't know how much longer he would be in Paris, but when he did leave, he would probably just head back to Berlin and the torturous job that awaited him there. There was really nowhere else for him to go now.

He opened the front door and grinned at the handsome man that stood outside.

"Your dinner, sir," the man said. Behind him was a large trolley on which sat the best looking meal Gilbert had seen since he had arrived in Paris. A pretty face and food. What more could he ask for?

"Come on in," he said, stepping aside.

The man wheeled the trolley into the room and Gilbert was about to shut the door when he heard a voice call out.

"Please wait!"

A young woman, completely out a breath, suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"I…I saw the trolley…and…and I was wondering…if I could perhaps…borrow a towel," she said heavily. She took a deep breath. "I had little spill in my room and all the bathroom towels have already soaked through."

"A 'little' spill you said?" the room service attendant asked.

"Well, maybe more than a little." She turned to Gilbert. "I hate to be a bother and if you can't spare one I understand."

"Nope, it's fine. Take all the towels you need," he said.

The woman grinned, her dark blue eyes lighting up. "Thank you so much. I would have called room service but I think I'm starting to get on their nerves. This is the fifth time this has happened."

"Just what are you up to?" Gilbert asked. He was having the worst day of his life but for some reason he found this woman amusing.

The woman held up her hands. They were stained with what he assumed was ink or some sort of paint.

"I'm an artist. Or at least I suppose I am. That's what people tell me I am. Anyway, sometimes I get a little carried away. You know, I'm just so into what I'm doing, and then bam! Paint all over the priceless 18th century rug." She laughed and Gilbert couldn't help but smile.

The room service attendant's face went pale. "The rug you said?"

"Oh no, that was last time. This time it was a chair. Hopefully it's not as expensive as the rug."

"Perhaps I should see this for myself," the man said. "Which room are you in?"

"I'm right down the hall to the left in one of those fancy suites. I think it's the Elton John one but I really can't be sure. I've been here over a week already but I still have trouble finding the loo in the morning. Everything is just too big."

"Excuse me sir, I'll be right back. Let me just see to this, if you don't mind."

Gilbert shrugged. "Fine by me. I'll get the towels." When he came back from the bathroom the room service attendant was already gone and the woman was examining one of the paintings on the wall. She was tall and very skinny with short, reddish-brown hair and when she turned around and saw the towels in his hand he noticed the dark freckles that went across her nose.

"Oh, thank you!" she said. "These should make everything all better again. You're absolutely wonderful." She held out a hand. "I'm Imogene. Imogene Smith."

"Gilbert Beilschmidt," Gilbert said as he shook her hand.

"And what brings you to Paris?"

"Holiday," Gilbert answered quickly. "And you?"

"Work, but I like to imagine I'm on holiday. It makes everything a little less stressful." She glanced around the room. "I'm terribly jealous of you. This suite is lovely. It makes mine look overblown and tacky." Her gaze fell on the dinner trolley. "Oh my, did I just interrupt your dinner? I just saw the cart and wasn't even paying attention to what was on it. I'm a horrible person. Let me take those towels from you so you can eat in peace. I'm actually starving so I should probably go find something to eat for myself. Sorry again for being such a bother."

"Are you doing anything right now? Because you can stay if you want. I have enough food to feed a small army," Gilbert said as he handed over the towels. He knew that watching T.V. would only distract him for so long and then his thoughts would start to wander to things that he would rather not be thinking about. Well not things, but people. Two certain people in fact. This Imogene Smith was quirky enough to keep his mind occupied for at least a few hours.

"Really? Oh, but I shouldn't. I still have quite a lot of work to do."

"A little break never hurt anyone."

Imogene grinned. There was tiny gap between her front two teeth but it only made her more charming. "Well, perhaps I could…but I'm already so behind. I really should go."

Gilbert held up the bottle of wine he had been making his way through earlier. "Okay then. I guess I'll just have to drink this super expensive wine all by myself. This is some really fancy shit too."

"Oh my, so much temptation. What to do?"

At that moment the room service attendant came back into the room. "Miss, those towels won't be enough. You only said the chair was stained. You failed to mention the draperies and the sofa in the sitting room."

Imogene gave him a bashful smile. "Those might have slipped my mind."

"I'll have to call the cleaners. If you could not go into your room for a few hours, we would all be extremely grateful."

Imogene turned back to Gilbert. "Well then, I suppose we'll be having dinner after all. Lovely."

Gilbert ordered another bottle of wine and while they waited for it to be delivered, they ate and began to get to know each other.

"So where are you from?" Gilbert asked as he refilled his wine glass.

Imogene nibbled at a bread roll. "A tiny little village called Rosebury. It's about twlo hours outside London with a total population of about 2,000 people or so. It's adorable really, but one can go mad there. The most interesting thing to do is catching frogs by the water in the summer. When I turned 18 I more or less ran for the hills. I do miss it and I have been meaning to visit but my work keeps me so busy. And you?"

"Berlin. Population: too fucking crowded."

"Oh, I see. _Du bist ein Berliner._"

Gilbert grinned. "You just said I was a jelly donut. '_Du bist Berliner_', would have been fine."

Imogene shrugged. "I was always awful at languages. I think one of the reasons the staff here hates me so much is because every time I try to speak French I just about butcher all the words. Even I cringe at my accent. I envy anyone who can speak that language."

"I just happen to have taken 5 years of it," Gilbert said smugly.

Imogene's eyes widened. "German, English _and_ French? You're something amazing."

"And a little bit of Italian too," he lied.

"I am impressed. You must be very popular with the ladies, Mr. Beilschmidt."

"Yes, but I'm not really interested in them."

"_Oh_, I see. Then the men."

"They can't get enough of me, not to brag or anything."

Imogene laughed. "You are something else. I'm so glad I spilled paint all over my room. I haven't had such lovely company in a long time. So, are you traveling alone?"

Gilbert stood up and went to find his jacket, which he now remembered he had thrown on the floor. He did it was mostly just so Imogene couldn't see his face. "I am now. Not that I care. I like traveling alone. When I'm with other people they just put a damper on my awesome." He found his jacket behind the sofa and dug through the pockets until he found a half empty carton of cigarettes and his lighter.

"I wish I could be like you then. I get so very lonely when I'm traveling. Both my parents are retired and lounging on some beach in southern Spain. My two little sisters—they're twins, isn't that charming—are studying abroad in America. And then there's little old me here by myself."

"Well, I think being alone is ten times more fun," Gilbert said. He lit a cigarette and held up the box. "Want one?"

"I don't think we're allowed to smoke in these rooms."

"Fuck that."

Imogene grinned. "You are so very naughty. I would love to but I can't." She pulled down the sleeve of her shirt to show him the skin colored patch on the underside of her thin arm.

Gilbert made a face. "Oh, you're one of those people. My brother buys those by the bulk. I tried it once but it didn't really work."

"It's not the quite same," she said, gazing a little mournfully at the cigarette in his hand. "I only decided to quit after my grandfather died last year. He had emphysema. He smoked for twenty years and it finally caught up to him."

"Sorry about that. But everyone and their fucking dog has told me to quit. I really just don't feel like it." Gilbert fell back onto the chair. "Maybe in a few years."

There was a knock on the door. The wine Gilbert had ordered had finally arrived. They were also informed that it would take at least two more hours for Imogene's room to be completely clean.

"Take your time," Imogene said solemnly. "Sorry again for the mess." She gave Gilbert a wicked grin when they were alone once more. "Well maybe not too sorry."

"You said you're an artist, what do you paint?" Gilbert asked.

Imogene shrugged. "This and that. I haven't been able to put a label on it yet. Some call it modern, some call it impressionist. I just paint. I don't categorize."

"Would I know any of your work?"

"Maybe."

"I kinda hate art, to be honest. I think it's a waste of time."

"You wouldn't be the first to think that."

"Everyone makes such a fuss about it too. Like this Kara or K.A.R.A, whatever she's called. I hear about her everywhere. People are pissing themselves just to get a chance to see her work. And me? I don't give a single fuck. I even won tickets to her gallery but I gave them to Fra—…uh, I mean, I gave them away. I just don't understand what people find so interesting about finger paintings."

Imogene drained her glass and set it on the table between them. "You know Gilbert, I get inspiration for my work from everywhere. I see a dog chasing shadows in the park? Bam. Inspiration. School children fighting on the school yard? Bam! Inspiration. Garbage littered all over the street? BAM! Inspiration. Some artists are very picky about their muses but I take what I can get. The world is full of ordinary wonders and they help give life to my work. Now, as for you, we've been talking like this for a while and I must say that I like you very much. You are something new, something I've never encountered before and I'm just dying to see what I can do with you. I've been having a little trouble with my work recently—the doctor says it's stress—but I think I've found the solution to all my problems. So what do you say? Would you like to be my temporary muse?"

Gilbert stared at her. "Are you serious? After everything I just said about hating art?"

Imogene made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "Oh, I could care less about your personal opinions of the subject. Nothing is loved by everyone. And I think it will be fun."

"What would I have to do?"

"Just be yourself."

Gilbert thought it over for a few seconds. "Sounds easy enough. Why the hell not?"

"Oh, lovely. Thank you so much. We'll start tomorrow, if you don't mind. We should also have breakfast tomorrow. Are you free?"

"My schedule is completely open."

* * *

_Elizabeta_

"I think I have someone who can help you," Olympe told Elizabeta the next morning when she came down for breakfast. She indicated the girl standing next to her. "This is Angelique. She's Francis's niece."

Elizabeta was surprised. She hadn't pegged Francis for an Uncle but she only smiled. "It's nice to meet you Angelique."

"I'm sorry about what Francis did to you," Angelique said seriously. "I wanted to strangle him when Olympe told me. I'm only doing this because of Gilbert, or else I would have just let Francis wallow in his misery like he usually does."

"What's he been up to?" Elizabeta asked despite herself.

"Smoking and drinking excessively, going out at odd hours, moody, reclusive…" Angelique sighed. "It's worse than usual."

Elizabeta blinked. "I don't understand. Why is _he_ upset? He's the one that ruined everything in the first place!"

"I think it's because he's used to breaking hearts, but not used to having his own broken. I don't know if Olympe mentioned it, but Francis doesn't usually put up with anyone for more than a day or two. This time he got too close. He cared too much and now he's hurting. A lot."

"It serves him right!" Elizabeta said angrily. "Because I'm hurting and I'm sure as hell Gilbert is hurting too. I still don't understand why he did what he did in the first place. Why is he afraid to get close to people?"

Angelique turned to Olympe. "We'll be back in a little bit." Then she turned back to Elizabeta. "You can follow me."

"To where?"

"One of my favorite places."

Angelique led her through the winding hallways until they reached a door. She pushed it open and once more Elizabeta found herself in the outdoor garden.

"I know this place," she said. "Francis brought me here before…well…"

"It was my mother's garden. Francis loves this place as much I do."

Elizabeta followed Angelique to the small table and they sat down across from each other.

"This is probably the best place for me to explain why Francis is the way he is," Angelique said. She took a deep breath, as if what she was going to say next needed some mental preparation. "Growing up, he and my mom were very close, even though she was six years older than him. Both of their parents worked from sunup till sundown seven days a week so really they only had each other. They did everything together. My mom even waited three years so that they could be at Uni together. And it was while they were at Uni that my mom met my dad. He was studying abroad and, from what she used to tell me, they hit it off right away. Francis and my dad never really got along and they hated each other even more after graduation. You see, my dad was fine living in Paris for a few years. He got married here, I was born here and we all lived here until I was six. But all of his family was still in Seychelles and he always planned on going back. So, a few months before I turned seven, he decided to do just that. At first, my mom was extremely reluctant. She was Parisian to the core and she loved her city but, after some convincing, she eventually gave in. Francis was furious though. I don't know all of the details but they got into a terrible fight right before we left and they didn't speak to each other for the next five years. This was when I think Francis first began to lose his faith in people. He probably thought that if his sister could leave him so easily, the person who claimed to love him the most in the world, than no doubt everyone else could leave him just as easily." Angelique shook her head. "Actually, no, it started before that. My mom used to tell me that, when they were younger, Francis was forever moving from one person to the other. She used to joke that he was too French for his own good. Basically, he never had a high opinion of relationships to begin with and her leaving him only made it worse. Now fast forward five years. My mom was the first to throw in the towel. She flew to Paris to end the 'cold war' between her and Francis and try to restore their relationship. She also was thinking of moving back. She loved my dad and she had grown to love Seychelles but Paris was still very much her home. However, one thing about Francis is that he knows how to hold a grudge. He was still angry with her for abandoning him and didn't believe her when she said she wanted to move back. They fought again and after a week I think my mom realized that they would never be as they once were. So she flew back to Seychelles. Except, her plane never made it. I never knew exactly what happened. Some said it was turbulence, others said the engine was faulty. I don't think they ever really figured it out. Whatever the reason, she died and Francis never forgave himself. She had gone back to him with the intention of reconciliation and he had basically thrown it in her face." Angelique took a deep breath. "As for my dad, he was never quite the same and one day he just disappeared. No one knows where he went but they found his body a few months later on one of the outer islands of Seychelles."

"I'm so sorry," Elizabeta said quietly.

Angelique gave her a small smile. "I didn't tell you that just so you could feel sorry. I told you so that you could understand that Francis isn't a bad person—just damaged. We're all just a little bit damaged in some way."

Elizabeta nodded. She knew people who were damaged. When she was being honest, she would add herself to that list. The nightmare of the burning alley and the bottomless abyss still came to her from time to time. Lovino had been damaged. More than she would ever know. She felt the hot prickling in her eyes that always preceded tears but she took a deep breath and forced them back.

"Francis doesn't want to get close to anyone because he can't bear to be hurt the way he was when my mom died."

"But your mother's death was a terrible accident. He can't believe that everyone's he's with will die like that."

"No, but he knows that they can still leave. Just look at you and Gilbert. You're here for only two weeks and after that you'll leave and who knows if you'll ever be back. I'm not saying that you're going to die but there are so many twists and turns in life, so many plans that go completely astray. Francis knows this and because of this he tries to keep everyone at a safe distance. Gilbert was his first slip up in a long time. I don't know why, but for some reason Francis let himself care too much about your friend."

And suddenly everything clicked. "So what you're saying is that Francis kissed me to push Gilbert away. Even though they were getting along just fine and liked each other. But because he knew Gilbert and I were leaving in less than a week, he purposely hurt Gilbert and, consequently, himself, to save himself more pain later." Elizabeta said.

"That's what I believe."

"What an idiot."

Angelique laughed. "Yes, I know. It wasn't the smartest decision. But now you understand why he did it."

"Yes. I'm still angry at him but not as much as before. So what do we do now?

"Our first priority is Gilbert." Angelique checked her watch. "We're supposed to meet a friend of mine in a little bit. I think he can help us get into the Ritz."

"Legally?"

"Don't get your hopes up."

Twenty minutes later, Elizabeta and Angelique were sitting outside a posh coffee shop sipping lattes and quickly making their way through a plate of petit fours.

"Hey, Angelique."

They both looked up to see a tall boy with short blond hair making his way towards their table. He was well dressed in dark pants, a white shirt with rolled up sleeves and a dark vest. He walked with an arrogant swagger that reminded Elizabeta of Gilbert.

"I was wondering when you were going to ring me," he said as he sat down. He glanced at Elizabeta. He had beautiful cat green eyes that intrigued her but also made her wary. This was not someone who was easily trusted. "Who's your friend?" he asked with a grin.

"This is Elizabeta. Elizabeta, this is Louis."

"It's nice to meet you," Elizabeta said.

"The pleasure is all mine," Louis said.

Angelique rolled her eyes. "Stop it. First off, let's switch the conversation over to English, just so we don't get any details mixed up," Angelique said. "Now, Louis, I didn't ring you up so that you could flirt with my friend. I need a favor. Does your cousin still work at the Ritz?"

"Yeah and if you're looking for a job, don't bother asking. He won't even get me one. Some family he is."

"We're not looking for employment; we need to get inside the hotel without actually booking a room."

Louis's eyebrows went up. "You want to sneak into the Ritz? What for?"

"Elizabeta's friend is staying there and we need to see him as soon as possible. The problem is that they won't tell her what room he's staying in and he's not accepting any calls from her."

"You sure you're friends?" Louis asked Elizabeta.

"It's complicated," she replied.

"Sounds like trouble to me." Louis frowned. "I don't want to get mixed up in another one of your schemes Angel."

"This is for a good cause and you don't have to get mixed up in anything. You just have to ask your cousin if he can find out which room Gilbert is in and then somehow find a way to get us in there. It's simple."

"Hardly. Even if Oliver agrees, he's going to want something in return."

"Like money?" Elizabeta asked. "I can give him money."

"How about a date?" Louis asked Angelique.

"Are you sure you're not asking for yourself?" she replied coolly. "Our only offer is money."

Louis sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Fine. €200."

"You're crazy," Angelique said. "No way. €50."

"You want my cousin to help you break into the personal files of a hotel guest at the fucking _Ritz Carlton_ and then somehow sneak you to his room and all you want to give us—er, him, is €50? Find yourself someone else." Louis stood up to go.

"Help us and I'll give you €300," Elizabeta said quickly.

Angelique's eyes widened. "Do you even know what you're doing Elizabeta?"

"I know that I need to get in that hotel and find Gilbert," she said. "And I'll pay whatever I have to."

Louis sat back at the table, a large grin on his face. "You're cute so I'll only take €250. What do you think about half now, half later?"

"Get me to my friend and then you'll get everything," Elizabeta said firmly.

Louis shrugged. "I expected as much. You've got yourself a deal. It's gonna take some time though."

Elizabeta's heart sank. Time was one thing she didn't have. "How long?"

"At least two days."

Ludwig was not going to be happy about that. There was a chance Gilbert wouldn't even be in the city for two more days. "You can't arrange everything sooner?"

"Unless you want to get thrown in jail, no. This is a quality job. Like Brad Pitt and George Clooney in Ocean's 11 type quality."

"Just don't get carried away," Angelique said.

Louis stood up. "What? Me get carried away?" He flashed them a catlike smile. "What kind of guy do you take me for Angel? I'll ring you when everything's all set."

"Thank you," Elizabeta said.

"See ya around, Louis. Thanks for all your help," Angelique said with a small smile.

"Now she's being all sweet. You're something else girly. Tell Francis I said hi, okay? Has he finally let you live with him in Paris? If not, tell him seeing your pretty face only four weeks a year isn't even close to enough for me."

Angelique narrowed her eyes. "Bye Louis," she huffed.

Laughing, Louis left the way he had come.

"Can we trust him?" Elizabeta asked when he was gone.

"Yes. I've known him since I was four. He worships Francis and can be a douche at times but he always comes through. I don't know his cousin very well but I'm sure he won't let us down."

Elizabeta would have to come up with some way to placate Ludwig for the next two days and keep him from closing Gilbert's account. Other than that, the only other thing she could do was wait.

* * *

_Gilbert_

He was covered in paint. It was in his hair, on his face and even between his toes. Imogene had told him to wear the oldest clothes he had. He actually didn't have any of his own clothes with him. Everything he had brought to Paris was still at the bed and breakfast. So the day before he had put in an order for a brand new wardrobe. It had all cost him almost €10,000 and he had paid without any hesitation. He was honestly surprised his brother hadn't kicked down his door by now. He had only been at the Ritz for two nights and his bill was already nearly €50,000. It was possible that Ludwig had been calling but Gilbert's phone had been off since he had arrived at the hotel. He wondered just how much money he could spend until his brother sent in the German armed forces. Until then, he would spend at his leisure. None of the clothes that had been delivered to him had seemed appropriate for painting so finally he had had to call room service and ask if they had any old uniforms lying around. He had been in luck and a dusty pair of black pants and a white v-neck shirt had arrived at his room that morning. Imogene had intended to start working with him the previous day but after breakfast she had received a call from a man she told him was her boss. Her presence had been required at an event that would most likely take the rest of the day. She had apologized to Gilbert and promised that they would have a fantastic time tomorrow. Gilbert had spent the rest of the day locked in his room, drinking wine straight from the bottle and watching old movies. He tried not to think about Francis or Elizabeta. It just made him angry and gave him a painful ache in his chest. The memory was still too clear in his mind; the kiss and then the way Francis had smiled…Gilbert had told himself that he didn't care. After all, hadn't he said that they would just be friends? Then a mocking voice in his head had said that if he didn't care so much then why had he run away and why was he hiding in a hotel with the door locked and his phone off? He had ignored the voice and turned up the volume of the television. He had been more than a little happy when Imogene had knocked on his door early that morning. So far he was enjoying her company. She was fun and had an energy to her that seemed to never run out.

"I've completely cleared my schedule for you, not an easy task, so you better be grateful," she had teased. "And the hotel has even given me my own private workroom. I guess it was all the upholstery I ruined. So get dressed in something old, something that you won't miss, and meet me downstairs in an hour."

When Gilbert had met her in the lobby she had taken him to a large room that was completely empty except for five buckets of paint in the middle and the white sheets of paper that covered the floor, the walls and the ceiling.

"Welcome to my temporary studio," Imogene had said happily as she closed the door behind them. "Let's get to work!"

Gilbert still didn't understand what sort of art Imogene painted or even what type of method she used. They had spent most of the past two hours throwing paint at each other and had finally collapsed, exhausted, onto the floor.

Imogene's suddenly sat up. "Oh, I've got it!" She grabbed one of the brushes she had brought off the floor and dipped it in the bucket of red paint. For a few seconds she studied the wall in front of her before she flicked her wrist and droplets of red paint splattered across the canvas. "Perfect."

"That's it?" Gilbert asked, hardly noticing the difference. The wall was already smeared with a bright array of colors and the red was barely noticeable.

Imogene huffed and turned around to face him, her hands on her hips. She was wearing only a pair of black shorts and a frayed black t-shirt. Green and yellow paint dripped from her hair onto her cheeks and her arms were blue up the elbows. Her legs were black, blue, red and green.

"You know nothing, Gilbert Beilschmidt," she said. She flicked her wrist again and red paint splattered over the front of his shirt.

"Is this a normal day for you?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "No. Normally it's just me and the room is much bigger. Also, I don't usually use quite so many colors at once. Think of today as a practice run. I'm just testing the waters and so far I'm liking how everything is turning out." She grinned. "I knew you would be perfect for this."

"I don't even know what I've done but whatever, awesome." Gilbert pushed himself off the floor and went over to the bucket of yellow paint. He picked up one of the paintbrushes and dipped it in. It was hard finding a spot on the ground that was still white but he managed to locate one in the far left corner of the room. Imogene walked over to examine what he was painting.

"Is that a bird?" she asked.

"Yeah, he's mine. His name is Gilbird. Clever, right? Eliz—uh, he was a gift."

"He's cute."

"Just like his owner, right? I really hope my brother is feeding him…Do you have any pets?"

"Two cats. But they're at my flat in London. One is Ophelia, the other is Lady MacBeth."

"Someone liked Shakespeare a little too much."

"Hush, I'm British. By chance do you have your mobile on you? I need to make a quick call and I left mine in my suite."

Gilbert reached into his pants and dug out his phone. He didn't know why he still carried it when he didn't plan on answering any calls he received but he guessed that it was for moments like this. He handed it to Imogene.

"Thanks, love. Go on painting, this will only take a second."

One Gilbird didn't take long to finish and Gilbert was on his way to making a whole family of fluffy yellow birds when Imogene said, "Oh my, someone is very popular. Look at all these messages and missed calls. You already told me that Ludwig is your brother but who is Liz?"

Gilbert dropped the brush in his hand.

"Not your girlfriend—unless you were lying to me two nights ago—so your sister perhaps?"

"No! She's not important. She's just…someone."

Imogene raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Now I'm really beginning to think she's your girlfriend. Is someone a little bi-curious?"

"I said she's not important!" Gilbert said louder than he intended.

Imogene's look startled for a second but then she smiled. "My, my, someone's got a little anger underneath all that cool. Did I hit a nerve?" She took a step towards him.

"…yes."

She took another step towards him and then another. "Sorry about that then. My mum's always saying I talk too much and that I'm too nosy. I think it's the artist in me, always wanting to peel back the layers to see what I'm really looking at." She knelt down next to him so that they were only a breath apart. She reached up and traced a line down his face. "And look at you. You…you are…I don't even know." She took his hand and dropped his phone onto it. "How about we call it a day. If you're up for it, we can meet again tomorrow."

"Sure, why not?" he said, his voice now barely above a whisper.

Imogene smiled. "I'm glad I met you Gilbert," she said. Then she stood up and began to collect the brushes littered across the room. "I'll take care of clean up. You can go."

"You don't need any help?"

"Nope. Clean-up is actually something I like to do by myself. It gives me time to evaluate my work. So run along, love. Today was amazing. Thank you."

"The pleasure was mine."

Imogene gave him a small wave before she continued to pack up paintbrushes. It took Gilbert a few minutes to find his way back to the lobby and people openly stared as he made his way towards the elevators. When he got to his room he tossed his clothes and his phone into a corner and jumped into the shower. By the time he was done scrubbing himself, the bathtub was a multicolored mess. He wrapped himself in one of the hotel's fluffy robes and was about to go to the sitting room when there was a knock on his door. He hoped it was Imogene so that he could apologize for snapping at her but when he opened the door he found two room service attendants standing on either side of a large trolley.

They were wearing caps pulled low over their faces so he couldn't see their eyes but one had a bristly brown mustache and the other a dark beard. He couldn't remember seeing either of them before.

"I didn't call for room service," he said.

"Compliments from management," grunted the one with the beard.

The one with the mustache reached under the trolley and pulled out a bottle of wine. "We hope you are enjoying you stay," he muttered.

Gilbert stared suspiciously at the wine but, after a few seconds, reached out to take it. Right before he could grasp the bottle the man with the mustache yelled, "Angelique now!" in Elizabeta's voice and lunged forward. Gilbert groaned as he was knocked to the floor. He heard the sound of the door slamming shut and the click of the lock sliding into place.

"I can't believe we actually did that!" said a familiar voice, but Gilbert was only paying attention to the person sitting on top of his chest. Elizabeta pulled the hat off her head and her brown curls tumbled over her shoulder. Then she ripped off the false mustache and threw it aside. He couldn't believe he had fallen for such a cheap disguise.

"Hello Gilbert," she said, grinning down at him.

"Get off." He hissed. "How did you find me?"

"With a little help from your brother and Angelique's friend."

Angelique crouched down next to him. She was still wearing the beard. "Hi Gilbert!" she said cheerfully. "It's nice to see you again."

"Both of you need to leave. Now."

"Oh, we're going to leave, and you're coming with us."

"Hell no."

"Gilbert, if you're not out of this hotel in the next 48 hours your brother is going to shut down your account!"

"Let him do it. I don't give a fuck anymore. I'm going back to Berlin soon anyway."

Elizabeta frowned. "You're going to leave me?"

"Yep."

"And what makes you think I'll let you go that easily?"

"You have no say in the matter. I'm going and you can't stop me. Now get the fuck off me."

Elizabeta sighed and stood up. Gilbert scrambled to his feet.

"Now leave."

"We're not done yet," Elizabeta said. "I don't even know how many laws I've broken today but I don't really care because everything I did, I did for you. I'm here to apologize."

"There's nothing to apologize for."

"Really? Then why are you here Gilbert? Why did you run away?"

"I didn't—"

"Why did you turn off your phone? Why did you tell them at the front desk that you didn't want any messages from me? If I have nothing to apologize for then why the hell did I sneak into the Ritz Carlton through the kitchen entrance and steal a room service attendant's uniform? There are two men lying unconscious in a closet because of me."

"Because you're fucking crazy. Now go."

"I'm sorry Gilbert, okay? You have no idea how sorry I am! I didn't know that was going to happen but I am so sorry that it did." Elizabeta looked as if she was close to tears but Gilbert knew her better than that.

Angelique stepped forward. "I really need to explain some things about Francis to you Gilbert. You need to understand the situation."

"No, I don't think I 'need' to do anything. But I think you two need to get the hell out."

"Damn it Gilbert, just listen," Elizabeta snapped.

He turned to her. "No, how about you listen. I'm through being your punching bag. I'm tired of spending my money on you. I'm tired of following you around on this stupid trip. You're not going to find true love! You know why? Because you're a bitch! There, I said it! You're grumpy, moody, stubborn, boring and overall not a fun person to be with!"

"Call me whatever you want. I'm not leaving," Elizabeta said firmly.

Gilbert sighed and put his hands on her shoulders. "Oh Liz…Liz, Liz, Liz. Always such a dreamer. Always thinking that if you believe in something enough you can make it happen. Here's a reality check for you. There's no such thing as true love. I've been telling you for years but of course you never listen. Just look at what happened with Lovino. I bet you thought he cared, didn't you? But no, he didn't give a shit. He just used you. He used you twice! And then, when he was done he basically told you to get the fuck out of his life. That's your true love right there Lizzy. It told you that you were pathetic and that you were worthless. So romantic, right? But you still love him, don't deny it, I know you do. If he rung you right now and told you that he needed you, you would go running back. I bet he could ask to fuck you and you wouldn't waste a second before—"

She slapped him. Gilbert stumbled back, clutching his face.

Elizabeta's face was bright red and he saw that her hands were shaking. "That," she said slowly though clenched teeth, "was a low blow. I…I didn't deserve that." She turned to Angelique, who had gone pale. "Let's go."

"A-Are you sure?" Angelique asked.

"Yes. There's nothing more we can do here today."

Elizabeta didn't look back once as she walked out through the door, closing it behind her. Gilbert didn't know how long he stood there clutching his face after they were gone. The words had just come flying out before he could stop himself. They had been born from all the bitterness and anger he had let fester inside him for the past few days. He wanted to take everything back. He wanted to run after Elizabeta and tell her that none of it was true. But his feet stayed firmly rooted to the ground. Gilbert glanced down and saw that the bottle of wine that Elizabeta had pretended to offer him was still on the floor. He picked it up and turned it over in his hand. It was the type that he had been guzzling since he had arrived at the hotel. It was overpriced and tasted like shit. He didn't know why he had been drinking so much of it. He usually hated wine. Gilbert pulled back his arm and threw the bottle at the wall. It shattered on contact.

"FUCK!" he yelled. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!"

* * *

_Elizabeta_

She thought long and hard about what she would do next. She barely slept that night and woke up with a pounding headache. She ignored the pain and got dressed. Then she hurried downstairs to find Olympe. After she found out the information that she wanted she called a cab and had it drive her to address. She told the driver to wait for her before she went inside. She took the stairs by twos, checking all the numbers on the doors before she found the one she wanted. She knocked on the battered wooden door and was not surprised when Angelique opened it.

"Oh, h-hi Elizabeta. I didn't expect to see you here. How…how are you feeling?" the younger girl asked shyly, her eyes cast downward. After what had happened the day before, Angelique had barely been able to speak to her.

Elizabeta steeled her nerves and said calmly, "How I feel is unimportant. Is Francis home?"

"Y-yes, but he's sleeping"

"Well I need to see him. Can you wake him up?"

"I-I'm not sure. He gets really ang—"

Elizabeta didn't wait for her to finish and pushed past her instead. Francis was sprawled face down on the couch. Elizabeta grabbed the blanket he was sleeping on and pulled on it, causing him to tumble onto the floor. She was rewarded for her efforts by a long stream of angry French expletives.

"Good morning to you too Francis," she said. "Now get up and get dressed."

He glared at her. "You have a lot of nerve coming in here like this. Why the hell should I listen to you?"

She walked over to him and pressed her foot against his chest. "Because we can do this the hard way or the easy way."

He smirked. "What's the hard way? I've always liked it rough."

"Oh, I'm sure you do."

She dragged him by his hair to his room and tossed him onto the bed. Then she tore open his closet and grabbed the first acceptable clothes that she could find and threw them at him. He fought back and she was forced to wrestle him to the ground. There was much kicking and screaming but she finally got him into his clothes and then dragged him out of the apartment.

"I'll bring him back later," she called over her shoulder to Angelique as she shoved Francis into the hallway.

"Good luck!" Angelique said, trying not to smile.

"This could be considered kidnapping in some places," Francis muttered as she marched him down the stairs.

"More laws to break," Elizabeta said grinning, "how fun."

When they got to the taxi she shoved him inside and instructed the driver to take them to the Ritz. When they arrived, she turned to Francis for the first time and really looked at him. She had made a mess of him, again. His hair was wild and rumpled and there was a bruise forming underneath his eye where she had punched him during the struggle to get his shoes on. He had scratch marks up and down his arms and his shirt was ripped at the bottom.

"Sorry for all of that," she said.

"You should be. Now why the hell are we at the Ritz?" he asked.

"Because this is where Gilbert is."

Francis's mouth fell open. "No fucking way. You did not bring me here to—"

"Just listen, okay? Just here met out! For two minutes and then, if you want, you can ask me to take you home and I will tell the driver to take you home and you'll never have to see me again. Okay?"

Francis closed his mouth. She took this as her signal to begin.

"Gilbert is my best friend. He's really my only friend and without him I'm kinda useless. I give him so much shit and never the respect he deserves. I beat him up on occasion and probably have called him every insult known to man. Yet, he has still put up with all of my problems. Not just on this trip, but in all the years I have known him, he's always been there. With sarcasm and stupid comments at times, but he's always been there. I take so much from him and give him almost nothing in return. And I have always secretly been happy that Gilbert didn't care much about relationships because I don't know what I would do if I had to share him with someone else. He is my best friend. He is _mine_ and I will never let him go. I will _never_ give him to anyone else…except you. I don't know if you bewitched him or maybe you're just that charming, but he really likes you. I didn't realize just how much until yesterday. It hurts me to let him go but it hurts me more to see him the way he is. So, if you want, I'll give him to you so that you won't have to lose him when we leave."

"…what?"

"I know you're afraid to lose people. I know that you're afraid that they'll leave or die and you'll be alone again like when your sister died."

Francis's eyebrows went up. "Who told you—"

"Angelique, but that's unimportant. I will go back to my room tonight and pack my bags and leave Paris, leave Gilbert, if you accept the offer that I am giving you now. I won't fight, I won't argue, I'll just go. You can tell him whatever you want; that I want nothing to do with him or that I decided I was better off alone. All I want is for him to be happy. I started this trip to find my own happiness, what right do I have to deny him his? So, what do you say?"

Francis sat back in the seat. "I think you're crazy," he said finally.

Elizabeta laughed. "Yeah, maybe just a little. But will you help me Francis? I need to make things right and I can't do it without your help."

Francis sighed. "I really fucked up this time," he muttered. "Of all the people in the world…" He turned to Elizabeta. "Stay here." He opened the door of the cab and stepped out. Elizabeta got out on her side.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm going to get him. You stay here."

"By yourself?"

"You'll just get in the way."

Elizabeta opened her mouth to argue against that but then she realized that she was doing what she always did whenever someone got in between her and Gilbert. So instead she just said, "Good luck!"

"I hardly need it," Francis said over his shoulder. He grinned and then went through the doors of the hotel.

It was almost two hours before he came back out again. Elizabeta was leaning against the hood of the taxi smoking and glaring at one of valet parking attendants. Twice they had tried to get her to move and even the taxi driver was getting restless but she had sworn a painful death would come to anyone who attempted to move her from that spot. She had promised the taxi driver that she would make sure that he was fully compensated for his patience. She was on her third cigarette when one of the doors of the hotel opened and Francis walked out, Gilbert behind him. Elizabeta let the cigarette fall to the ground and went running towards them.

"Try and move that taxi and I will hunt you down," she yelled at the valet parking attendant as she ran past him.

She came to a stop in front of Gilbert but said nothing and only stood there, not sure what to do next. She noticed that he had bought new clothes.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi yourself," Gilbert said.

She couldn't stand it. "I'm so sorry," she blurted out. "You don't know how sorry I am. Like so sorry I could die. If there's anything I can do, just tell me, I'll do it."

"Okay, I'm thinking 3 six-packs, a box of éclairs from the shop down the street and one of the hotels fluffy robes. You'd have to sneak back in and steal it though, but you're good at getting in and out of here now, right?"

Elizabeta only stared at him, half wanting to ask what he wanted first and half wanting to punch him.

Gilbert grinned at her obvious confusion. "Or you could just come give me a hug. Hugs are nice too."

She threw herself in his arms.

"All that shit I said yesterday, can you, uh, just pretend I never said it?" Gilbert asked, sounding sheepish.

"I have no idea what you mean," Elizabeta said with a smile.

"I'll just let you two talk for a while," Francis said. "Those men are trying to take the taxi anyway. I'll let them know we'll be out of here in five minutes."

"What happened in there?" Elizabeta asked when Francis was gone.

"What do you think happened?" Gilbert asked with a sly smile.

Elizabeta gasped. "Did you–"

"Get your mind out of the gutter Liz. All we did was talk."

"About?"

"Stuff."

"What kind of stuff? Tell me."

"Don't worry, I will. Someday."

Elizabeta scowled. "Seriously?"

"Yes, very."

Elizabeta sighed. "You'll never change."

"Would you have me any other way?"

No, she wouldn't and it pained her to think that there was a chance that after today she wouldn't have him at all.

She was stopped from contemplating this thought further when she heard someone call "Gilbert!" from behind her. She turned to see a tall, skinny girl with reddish brown hair approaching them. Despite the heat, she was wearing a long black sundress that made her only look slimmer. Behind her was a giant crowd that included both professional paparazzi and tourists with cameras and video phones.

"Just what are you up to? Are we still on for dinner tonight?" the girl asked. She glanced at Elizabeta. "And who is this?"

"This is Elizabeta," Gilbert said. "You know, Liz?"

"Oh, so this is the lovely lady who left all those messages on your phone." She held out a hand. "Imogene Smith. Now, tell me honestly, are you his girlfriend?"

Elizabeta took her hand. For such a skinny girl, she had a strong grip. "Absolutely not. Just his friend. His best friend."

Imogene grinned. "Well that's just lovely. It's a pleasure meeting you. Oh, you should join us for dinner tonight! I would love to get to know you better."

"Sorry Imogene, but I actually just checked out," Gilbert said.

Imogene's face fell. "Oh, really? Well that was very rude of you to do so without telling me." She sighed. "Now I'll have to arrange all of my dinner plans. What caused this sudden departure anyway?"

Gilbert pointed behind her to Francis, who was still trying to defend the taxi from being taken away. "Him."

Imogene grinned. "Oh, he is pretty! Just where did you find him and can I get one?"

"I'm sure if you look around hard enough you might find someone similar, but I think he's one of a kind."

"Well then I think I might just hate you a little Gilbert Beilschmidt for getting to him before me."

"I told you, the men, they just can't get enough of me."

Imogene laughed. "I will miss that wit of yours. If I give you my number will you stay in touch or will you forget me like everyone else?"

"I promise to call twice a week."

"Good boy. Do either of you happen to have a pen by chance?"

"Not me," Elizabeta said.

"Hey Francis! Do you have a pen?" Gilbert yelled.

"I'll be right there!" was the reply. Seconds later Francis ran up to them. "So, we have two minutes to move the taxi or they're calling the police. What was it you needed? A pen? I think I have…..one…" He had suddenly noticed Imogene and his eyes widened. "Oh…my…God. It's you!"

Imogene smiled. "I love meeting fans. So many varied reactions! It's delightful!"

"Wait, I'm confused. Francis, how do you know Imogene?" Gilbert asked.

"How do you _not_ know her?" Francis said excitedly. "Gilbert, this is K.A.R.A."

"WHAT?" Gilbert and Elizabeta said at the same time.

"Oh drat, my secretly identity has been revealed!" Imogene said in mock anger.

"B-But how is that possible?" Gilbert asked. "You're…you're Imogene Smith!"

Imogene gave him a shy smile. "Imogene Smith is the name my parents gave me. To the rest of the world I'm K.A.R.A."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Gilbert all but yelled. "Even after everything I said about your work being stupid."

Francis glared at Gilbert. "You said what?"

Imogene blushed. "Almost everyone in Europe knows me as K.A.R.A. You were the first person in a long time that knew me as Imogene. I didn't mean to lie to you but I don't get to be just Imogene Smith a lot these days and it was nice being able to be her with you. I've had a great time these past four days. Thank you."

"Oh fuck. I still can't believe you…and all the things I said…and you are so much more awesome than I thought you would be!" Gilbert said.

"I'm glad you think so!" Imogene said. "So, do you still want to exchange numbers now that you know who I am?"

"Well duh! And, uh, could I possibly get three autographs?"

"Huh?" Elizabeta said.

"Don't look at me like that! They're not for me. One is for him," Gilbert pointed to Francis, "one is for Angelique and I'm sure Olympe wouldn't mind one either. Is that cool with you?"

"I'll take one too, if you don't mind," Elizabeta said quietly.

Imogene laughed. "I'll do you one better. All of you, as well as the friends you just mentioned, are invited to a private dinner at the gallery tonight. How does that sound?"

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," Francis said. "I can't even…oh my God…Angelique is not going to believe this. I'm calling her now." He ran off.

"I think that sounds good," Gilbert said.

"Then I will see you at seven, love. Until then, bye bye!" Imogene said before she sashayed back into the hotel.

"I seriously can't believe I spent the last four days with K.A.R.A," Gilbert said.

"I know," Elizabeta said. "What were the chances of that?"

"Well, at least now I don't have to hate her every time someone mentions her name."

"Oh, before I forget, you're going to want to call Ludwig when we get back to the bed and breakfast. He really needs to talk to you."

Gilbert groaned. "Fuck my life."

"I would be very,_ very_ nice if I were you," Elizabeta cautioned him.

"You two need to listen to this," Francis called. He lifted up his phone and pressed the speaker button. Instantly, Angelique's high-pitched scream blasted into the air.

"I'M GOING TO MEET K.A.R.A ! I'M GOING TO MEET K.A.R.A ! I'M GOING TO MEET MOTHERFUCKING K.A.R.A! AHHHHHHHHHH!"

* * *

_Elizabeta_

"Just where are you taking me?" Gilbert asked her.

"I already told you, it's a surprise," Elizabeta replied.

"That required me to get dressed up?"

"Yes. You look very handsome, by the way. They might have cost a fortune, but those clothes you ordered at the hotel are quality."

Gilbert was wearing a two-piece black suit and, at her insistence, had combed back his hair. He had forgone the tie and left the top two buttons of the white dress shirt unbuttoned. Elizabeta had let this slide. If casual formal was possible, it was what Gilbert was.

"French designers are the definition of quality. You don't look half bad yourself."

She was wearing a simple red dress that she had bought the day before. She had been forced to buy a new dress for the dinner with Imogene and it was her luck that the store she had gone to had been at the end of a three day 'buy one get one free' sale. The short, sleeveless red dress had been too cute to resist. The black dress she had worn the to the dinner the night before had been well received but she now decided that she liked the red one better. Her matching red heels clicked against the ground as they made their way down the street.

"Wherever we're going, it better have good food. I'm starving."

"We're almost there." Elizabeta turned down the next street, pulling Gilbert along with her. "So what did you and Ludwig decide?" She had been out getting ready for the surprise when Gilbert had finally called his brother.

Gilbert made a face. "He cut me off."

Elizabeta was shocked. "He did?"

"Only for three weeks though. I have access to €2,000 and that's it. I'm going to die."

"Well, that's not too bad. Considering how much you spent at the Ritz. Seriously Gilbert, what were you thinking getting that suite?"

"You know, I actually wanted the Imperial Suite at first but it was taken."

"How much is that a night?"

"Uh €11,600, I think. Not too bad."

Elizabeta nearly tripped. "Dear God, I'll never understand you millionaires."

"Billionaire when you factor in my earnings from the company, of course."

"Shut up. We're here!"

"It's just a restaurant. Why was this such a big deal?"

"You act like you've never eaten a Kinder Egg before. The prize is always inside, duh. Come on." she said as pulled him through the door.

Angelique and Francis were already inside, seated at a small table in the middle. There was no one else there except them. The restaurant had been finely decorated for the evening. It hadn't been cheap, but with Olympe's help, Elizabeta had been able to buy everything on time. When Angelique saw them come in she smiled and stood up from the table.

"Sorry we're late," Elizabeta said. "This one, he hates getting dressed up. It takes him forever."

"It's no problem. Louis will understand," Angelique said.

"Louis Vatel? What does he have to do with anything?" Francis asked

"Well, he's my date for tonight. And his cousin is Elizabeta's. It's hard to explain but we owe them a favor."

When Elizabeta had checked her bank account she had realized that her explorations around Paris had cost her more than she had originally estimated. She could only afford to give Louis and his cousin €150. They had accepted the reduced sum but not without an extra cost. At first, Elizabeta had been afraid that she would be forced to go out on a date with a sixteen year-old but thankfully Louis's cousin was her age.

"You mean they're coming here?" Francis asked.

"No, we're meeting them. It's just you two here tonight. All the food's already in the back so just call for the waiters when you're ready," Angelique said. "Oh and, fyi, I'm staying at Olympe's tonight."

Elizabeta nudged Gilbert towards the table and then looped arms with Angelique.

"Enjoy your evening gentlemen. Don't stay up too late," she said.

Giggling, she and Angelique left the restaurant, but the laughter died on her lips as soon as they stepped outside.

"I'm might lose him after tonight," she said quietly.

"Are you sure you want to do this? I mean the date. I'm sure Louis would understand if we cancelled."

Elizabeta shook her head. "No, it's fine. Let's go have some fun."

As they walked down the street, she was struck by the urge to look back. She kept her head down and kept walking.

* * *

_Francis_

"You know, I think we've just been set up," Francis said.

"You know, I think you're right." Gilbert grinned. "What are we going to do about those two?"

"I'm afraid there's nothing we can do. I believe Angelique already worships Elizabeta. She's always wanted an older sister."

"If she ends up anything like Liz, you are in big trouble."

Francis sighed. "I'm starting to realize that. So, are you going to sit down or do I have to carry you over here?"

"I wouldn't mind the second option," Gilbert said, but he still went over and sat down at the table.

"I don't know about you, but I'm not really hungry."

"I ate before I came here."

"So I think we should send those along now." Francis turned to the door that led to the kitchen. "You can come out now," he called.

Louis Vatel poked his head into the room. "Are they gone?"

"Yeah, they're on their way to meet you now. They have about a three minute head start but if you run, you can still beat them," Gilbert said.

Louis stepped into the room. "Get your jacket Oliver, we're out of here," he yelled over his shoulder. He turned to Francis. "How'd you end up finding out about this anyway?"

"I have my sources."

"Olympe."

"She couldn't keep a secret if you paid her. You brought the wine right?"

"Hold on a sec." Louis disappeared back through the door and then emerged moments later with a bottle of red wine and two glasses. "Use it well," he said as he set everything on the table.

"Louis, I'm ready!"

"Well I'm off then. Enjoy your evening gents," Louis said with a mock salute.

"And you yours," Francis said. He took out his wallet and pulled out 100 euros. He handed the money to Louis, who pocketed it eagerly. Then, with a wink, he vanished behind the kitchen door once again.

"I think I should get an Oscar for the A+ acting I pulled off tonight. Liz never had a clue I knew all about her little surprise," Gilbert said when they were alone.

"Angelique was so excited about everything," Francis said as he opened the bottle of wine. "I almost felt bad lying. Although, I think part of it was still the leftover shock of meeting K.A.R.A last night."

"I thought she was going to pass out when Imogene shook her hand."

"But really, only you would spend four days with one of Europe's most popular artists and not know it."

"Recognizing celebrities is just too mainstream for me. Especially when they really should be recognizing me."

Francis rolled his eyes and handed him his glass.

Gilbert took a sip and made a face. "I still don't really like this stuff. Okay, next time we're drinking beer."

Francis faltered for a second and nearly dropped his wine but quickly recovered. "What shall toast to tonight?"

"How about being fucking clever?"

Francis gave him a look. "Is that really the best thing you can think of?"

"Fine." Gilbert raised his wine glass. "Here's to us. I'm awesome, I think you're awesome and together we just make an awesome pair. Oh and to _attraversiamo, _of course. Couldn't have gotten here without crossing a few streets."

Francis smiled. "Of course."

Their glasses clinked against each other and then Gilbert threw back the wine. Francis took a small sip and then set his glass down.

"So, what is your plan for tomorrow?" he asked casually.

"Uh, we haven't quite decided yet," Gilbert said as he refilled his glass. "I tried bringing it up but Liz didn't want to talk about it."

_We_

"You're supposed to go to England next, right?"

"Yep. Liz wants to go to London, but I told her that was boring. Everyone goes to London. I'm going to suggest that we go to Rosebury instead. Imogene told me yesterday that they have an annual beer festival around this time. Sounds like the place to be right now."

_We_

"Or maybe we should just go to London. I haven't been to a legit British pub in two years. Elizabeta will hate it of course."

_We_

"What...if I asked you to stay?" Francis asked suddenly.

"You mean in Paris?"

"Yes, if I asked you to stay here with me, would you?"

"And let Liz keep going on her own?"

"Yes."

"I don't know. You have to actually ask me first," Gilbert said quietly. "But don't."

Francis raised an eyebrow. "Don't?"

"Don't ask." Gilbert stared down at the table. "Don't make me choose. I can't leave her. She needs me. She's useless without me. But I, uh, don't want to leave you either. Especially when everything between us is still so new. But I don't want to think about tomorrow, okay? Just what's going on here and now."

Francis knew that if he asked, he could make Gilbert choose him, but there was no reason to ask because he already knew what he was going to do. He stood up from his seat and walked around to Gilbert's side.

He leaned against the table and said with a sly smile. "I just had a great idea."

"Then why don't you share it."

Francis leaned down and kissed him.

"Come home with me."

"Yes."

* * *

_Elizabeta_

She was going to miss her train.

"Elizabeta you're—"

"I know Angelique. I'm going now. There's no use waiting anymore." She put on her best smile. "I guess I just hoped…maybe…well..."

"I'm sorry, but at least you know he'll be happy," Olympe said.

"Yeah, which makes all this a little bit easier. Although, it still sucks." Elizabeta took a deep breath. "Angelique. Olympe. It's been a pleasure. Thank you so much for everything."

Angelique wiped her eyes. "You promise to write?"

"I promise. I'll try to arrange my next visit so that we're here at the same time."

"I'll make sure to save you a room," Olympe said. Her blue eyes were glassy and she sniffed softly.

Elizabeta gave them both a quick hug. Then she picked up her bags and started walking, alone, towards the train.

"You stop right there Liz! Don't you dare take another fucking step!"

Elizabeta could have burst into tears. She turned around to see Gilbert running towards her, Francis right behind him. They were both completely out of breath when they came to a stop in front of her.

"I can't believe we made it," Gilbert wheezed. "I think I pulled something though. Ouch."

"What are you two doing here?" Elizabeta asked emotionally. "I thought…"

"Liz, we started this thing to together, we're going to end it together. Besides, I can't stay here. Francis is leaving in three days."

Angelique shot Francis a look. "You are? Where? You didn't tell me this!"

"Yes, I did. I said I was going to Rome. Just a little earlier than I initially planned." He put his arms around her and Olympe's shoulders and pulled them close. "And you two are coming with me. Angelique, I'm calling your Aunt when we get back to the B&B. She's probably going to hate me when I tell her you're going to be here for another three weeks."

"O.M.G really?" Angelique asked excitedly. "Thank you so much Francis!"

"Francis, you know I can't leave the B&B," Olympe said.

"You can and you will. If you don't want to close it then ask Louis and his cousin to watch it for next two weeks."

"I might as well burn it down myself then."

"So, you're really coming with me?" Elizabeta asked Gilbert.

He held up his bags. "No, actually I just brought these to ask if you could airmail them to my brother. Of course I'm coming with you. When's the train leaving?"

"Now."

"Okay then. Angelique, come here. You owe me a hug. Don't be shy Olympe, I know you want one too."

"Can we talk?" Francis asked Elizabeta while Gilbert was saying his goodbyes.

"Of course."

They walked a little apart from the others.

"You didn't have to do this," she said.

"I wanted to. He would have been miserable without you. Anyway, this isn't permanent. Think of this as a loan. Bring him back safe and sound, okay?" There was pain in his face as he said this but Francis managed a small smile.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, some last minute advice. Remember what I told you before? That sometimes we do things to the people we care about because it's the only option we have?"

"Yes and you told me that I should understand that because of my recent experiences. And you said it in a Italian. I…I think I know what you mean now. But if you're right that means Lovino…everything he said…"

"Was just his way of keeping you out of trouble. Not the smartest way of going about it, but nobody's perfect."

"But he wasn't lying. When he lies he gets this little wrinkle in his forehead. When he said those things to me, it wasn't there."

"According to you, this guy was in the Sicilian Mafia for four years. I've never seen "The Godfather" but I'm assuming a job like that involves a lot of lying. If he was really that obvious when he was telling a lie, do you think that he would still be alive?"

Elizabeta realized that he was right and couldn't believe she hadn't considered that before. Still...

"I'm not going back. I can't go back. Even if all of that is true. He's already pushed me away twice. I'm not sure if I could bear a third time."

"Then what are you going to do?"

She shrugged. "Keep traveling. Keep living my life. Who knows, I might still see him again. The world is sphere after all. What goes around, comes right back around."

"Liz!" Gilbert called. "We need to fucking move. Like now."

"Goodbye Francis."

"Goodbye Elizabeta."

"It's going to leave us behind! Move your ass woman!"

Gilbert was already running towards the train, their bags thrown over his shoulder.

"Aren't you two going to say your goodbyes?" Elizabeta asked.

Francis smirked. "We already said them. Now go."

Elizabeta took off after Gilbert, waving frantically to Olympe and Angelique. She had barely stepped onto the train when it started moving.

"We _just_ made it," Gilbert said as they went to find seats. They found a pair near the middle and fell onto them. "Now, onto England! This train should take us straight to Dunkirk, right?"

"Gilbert, are you really okay leaving him? I would have understood if you had stayed," Elizabeta said quietly.

Gilbert picked at a hole in his pants. "No, it's fine. We're going to call and stuff. Maybe we'll even start writing letters like you and your lame pen pal. And it's not like we'll never see each other again. So, uh...yeah. Everything's cool."

"Thanks for sticking with me."

"I had to. You're useless without me."

"I know."

"Did you get all my messages?"

"Yes. I read and listened to every single one." This suddenly reminded Elizabeta that she had never listened to the message Antonio had left her. She decided that she would check it once they were on the ferry.

"Good." Gilbert stretched out across his seat. "So, as I was saying earlier, this train is going straight to Dunkirk, right?"

Elizabeta nodded. "Yes, and from there we'll take a ferry across the English Channel."

"Excuse me."

They both turned to see an older woman standing above them.

"I just overheard you speaking. You must have come onto the train late. They made an announcement about five minutes that we won't be going straight to Dunkirk. We have to stop over in Amsterdam first."

"What? Why?" Elizabeta asked.

"They need to switch trains. This one is needed elsewhere."

"And they can't switch them later?"

The woman shook her head. "They also announced at the time that anyone who didn't want to wait the extra time was free to disembark and would be compensated. I'm sorry you missed it."

"I can't believe this," Elizabeta said as the woman shuffled back to her seat. "I don't want to go to Amsterdam!"

"Why? Amsterdam is awesome! Pot is legal there. And they have the red light district."

Elizabeta sighed. "Well, at least it's only a short delay." She pointed a warning finger at Gilbert. "Don't you dare go wandering off. I'm not staying in that city longer than I have to."

"Don't worry Liz. We'll be in and out before you know it."

Later, she would wonder why she even bothered believing him

* * *

_Palermo, Sicily_

The man had only been there twice but he already understood what to expect. He was led to a small room that contained only a desk and telephone. He waited until the door closed behind him before he picked up the phone.

"Did you find her?" asked the voice on the other end.

It was The Woman. There were only two of them who ever spoke to him. One was female, the other male. He didn't know their names so, to himself, he called the female The Woman and the male, The Boss, because he was the one that had actually hired him. He had only spoken to The Boss once. All the other times it had been The Woman. He assumed that she was his wife or daughter. The one time he had spoken to The Boss, the man had sounded frail and had wheezed every word. If not an old man, The Boss must at least be a very sick man. He didn't bother trying to find anything out about his employers. He was just there to do his job and get paid.

"Yes, she was in Paris."

"Are you certain?"

"I spoke to her. I pretended to be some pathetic romantic passing out roses in the park. I even gave her one and managed to sneak in a kiss at the same time." He laughed. "It made her cry."

"That was a very risky thing for you to do."

"Well she obviously wasn't going to recognize me."

"But she would recognize where you were from. She's not an idiot. She can put puzzle pieces together."

"She wasn't even clever enough to realize I had been following her for three days. There's nothing to worry about."

"She'll go the England next."

"Where in England?"

"We're not sure yet, but we'll find out soon enough."

"Want me to keep following her?"

"No, he has someone else in mind."

The man didn't need three guesses to know who _he_ was.

"So I'm free to go?" he asked.

"Yes. Your work is all done. We are no longer in need of your services. Or your life."

The man hadn't even heard the door open again. He reached for his weapon but his hand was barely inside his jacket when the bullet went through his brain. His head fell against the table next to the phone. The only sound coming from the receiver now was the dial tone.

* * *

_July 13th,_

_Dear Elizabeta,_

_I finally received your message today. It took about ten minutes to open it up. I really do hate phones. I've never heard of Rosebury so I can't give you any advice on what to see. I hope you enjoy yourself._

_I'm very sorry about what happened with your Italian friend._

_Did you end up having to leave Gilbert? I hope you didn't because, even I though I feel nothing towards him except disdain, you seem to enjoy his company very much and I would hate for you to lose it. I wish I could accompany you on your trip but, like you said, I don't have the funds. Please inform me of your current situation as soon as possible._

_Roderich_

_P.S- I've enclosed a copy of a letter Gilbert sent me. I didn't bother replying because I felt that it was waste of precious mental energy._

_P.S.S - Yes, I am quite familiar with the work of K.A.R.A. I think she's very accomplished for someone of her age. It is amazing that you had the pleasure of meeting her. I would have enjoyed going to her gallery showing in Paris but the cost was too much. You are very lucky._

* * *

**A/N: **So next chapter will be the Netherlands (with a guest appearance by Belgium!). Surprise chapter! Yes, I'm terrible for making you wait a little bit longer for England. But trust me, his chapters are very much worth the wait.

-with love

dancer


	12. The Netherlands and Belgium

**A/N:** Sorry for making you all wait so long! Enjoy the chapter!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

**Extra Notes: Belle = Belgium, Alec = Netherlands**

* * *

_The Netherlands and Belgium_

_Day 68 - 71_

It had been an accident.

Gilbert had been complaining about the crowd in the station and Elizabeta had turned around to ask him if they were going in the right direction. The collision had occurred less than a second later. Elizabeta had seen a flash of blond hair and surprised green eyes and the next thing she knew she was lying on her back, gasping for air. Gilbert appeared in her line of vision, staring down at her wide-eyed but still slightly amused.

"What…what happened?" she asked as he pulled her to her feet.

"You just earned a spot in the "Guinness Book of World Records" for the shortest time spent in a foreign country before completely embarrassing yourself."

Elizabeta ignored this comment and turned to the person she had run into. A few feet away a tall man with spiked hair was helping up a young woman. Elizabeta was relieved to see that she was virtually unscathed.

"I'm so sorry," Elizabeta said in English as she approached them. "Are you alright?"

She mentally crossed her fingers and hoped they understood because she knew no Dutch whatsoever and the whole situation was already awkward enough.

The man glared at her. "You should pay more attention to where you're going," he replied gruffly in perfect English.

"Alec, please," the woman said lightheartedly.

She turned to Elizabeta. She had short, wavy blond hair and pretty green eyes. She had a kind face and she gave Elizabeta an almost cat-like smile.

"It was an accident and I was distracted as well. No one is at fault. Are you okay?" she said.

Elizabeta smiled. "I doubt I'm even bruised."

"Thank goodness then."

"Belle, you dropped your bag."

"Oh wow, how did that happen?" Belle said when Alec handed her a medium-sized black bag.

Elizabeta blinked. "I have a bag just like that! Chanel, right?"

"Yep. It's a knock-off though, so don't tell anyone."

Belle put a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture.

Elizabeta laughed. "Don't worry; I won't if you don't tell anyone mine is fake too."

"Your secret's safe with me. I'm Belle, by the way. This is my brother, Alec."

"Elizabeta and this is Gilbert. Speaking of bags, mine has gone and disappeared on me…"

"It's over there." Gilbert pointed to the black bag a few feet away from the group. "And, no, I won't get it for you."

Elizabeta scowled at him before refocusing her attention on the people in front of her. "Sorry again. I hope I haven't caused you to miss your train or anything."

"It's no problem. Like I said, it was an accident. And we are arriving, not leaving. Are you visiting Amsterdam?" Belle asked.

"Not today, unfortunately. We're just changing trains."

"That's too bad. My brother and I have lived here for almost a year and I think everything about the city is just lovely."

"Even the red light district?" Gilbert asked slyly.

Elizabeta blushed and Alec glared at Gilbert. Belle only laughed.

"I wouldn't know. Alec won't let me anywhere near it," she said.

"Belle, we should start going. We don't want to be late," Alec said impatiently.

"Yes, of course. It was nice meeting you Elizabeta and Gilbert. Take care."

"You too."

Belle gave them a little wave as she turned to go. Alec gave a curt nod and then followed after his sister.

Elizabeta glared at Gilbert once they were alone. "Was it really necessary for you to bring up the red light district?"

"Excuse me for being curious."

"You're impossible. I can't take you anywhere."

Elizabeta walked past him to pick up her bag.

"Let's go find seats in the waiting area. We only have about 45 minutes before the train leaves and this time I want to be the first one on."

"When are you going to check Antonio's message?" Gilbert asked.

"Oh, thanks for reminding me!"

Elizabeta reached into her bag and froze. Slowly, she glanced down and gasped, nearly dropping the bag.

"Th-this isn't my bag!" she said in horror.

"What are you talking about?"

Elizabeta pulled out the first thing her hand touched. It was a pair of black cat ears.

"Kinky."

"Gilbert!"

"Sorry, sorry! But if this isn't your bag then where—"

Elizabeta gasped. "Belle! We must have switched bags after running into each other! Did you see which way they went?"

"That way, I think," Gilbert said, pointing towards the nearest exit doors.

"Come on then. We should still be able to catch them."

The Amsterdam Centraal Train Station was not just a train station, but also a major tourist attraction. As a result, it took them a few minutes to weave through the massive crowds and reach the outside.

Elizabeta anxiously scanned the faces of the people around them. "Do you see them?" she asked nervously.

"As if I even remember what they look like anymore."

"It's not like you to forget a pretty face."

"I'm hurt that you think me so shallow, Liz. Her brother wasn't even my type."

"This is pointless!" Elizabeta groaned. "We'll never find them this way. There are too many people here. But I _have_ to find them. My life is in that bag."

"By your life you mean your phone?"

"Yes, my phone; and also the keys to my parent's house, they keys to our apartment and my wallet. Oh, my copy of "Eat, Pray, Love" too."

"You actually brought that along?"

"What does it matter? Unless I get my bag back I'll never see it again!"

"Okay, calm down. There's a simple solution to all of this. Call your phone."

Elizabeta bit her lip. "I turned it off on the train because the battery was low."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Of course you did. Nothing's been simple on this trip so far, why did I expect this to be?"

"It's not my fault."

"I didn't say it was your fault."

"You're looking at me like it is."

"This is my _why-did-I-even-want-to-come-on-this-trip-in-the-first-place _face. And I know what you're about to say, but considering that we have bigger problems to worry about, you probably shouldn't say it."

Elizabeta closed her mouth.

"So what's the plan of action now?" Gilbert asked.

"I…I don't know." Elizabeta glanced down at the bag in her hand. "I guess we could start by looking through her things, you know, for an ID or something that has her address."

"Hopefully, she's like you and keeps everything important that she ever owned nice and neat in there."

They went back inside the train station and found an empty bench in a less crowded area.

"I hate doing this," Elizabeta said as she zipped open the bag. "I feel like I'm doing something illegal."

"Maybe we'll find something valuable…I'm joking!"

There wasn't much in the bag. There was a letter that looked like it had been opened and read many times, the cat ears from before, a small books and a wallet. Elizabeta picked up the wallet and, feeling slightly guilty, opened it. Inside was a simple photo ID that had Belle's name and birthdate but unfortunately no address. There were also a few business cards, an expired gift card and some money.

"She's a wedding planner," Elizabeta said as she examined one of the business cards.

"She looked the spinster the type," Gilbert commented.

"What are you talking about? Her ID says she's only 27."

"Those who can't do, teach. Those who can't wed, plan."

"Have I ever told you that you're an asshole?"

"Many times, Liz. Many times. How much money is in there?"

Elizabeta took a business card and closed the wallet. "None of your concern. Well, at least we can try her office number."

There was no answer when they called so Elizabeta just left her name and Gilbert's number and begged that Belle call back as soon as possible.

"This might be of some help," Gilbert said when Elizabeta hung up the phone.

He handed her the letter that had been in the bag. Even with all its creases and folds, the address on the front of the envelope was still perfectly legible.

Elizabeta sighed in relief. "Thank God. Let's go find a taxi."

"Maybe things will actually go right for once."

"Shut up. You'll jinx us."

...

Finding a taxi took longer than Elizabeta had expected and, as they pulled away from the train station, it was clear that any chance they had of still making their train was gone. After about 20 minutes they found themselves in a lovely neighborhood with beautiful canals and charming narrow side streets. In many store fronts, Elizabeta saw beautiful works of art and the whole area gave off a new age, bohemian vibe. The address from the letter led them to large, but slightly cramped looking building.

Elizabeta climbed out of the taxi. "This shouldn't take more than five minutes," she said before hurrying up the stairs.

"The meter's running so don't get chatty!" Gilbert called after her.

Luckily, Belle and her brother lived only on the second floor. Elizabeta knocked anxiously on their door and hoped that they had made it home by then. After a few seconds, she knocked again, her stomach become more and more knotted. She almost jumped when she heard a voice behind her and turned to see a woman with long black hair leaning against the doorway of the apartment across the hall. She had a piercing above one of her eyebrows, one on her nose and a ring on her lower lip. She regarded Elizabeta suspiciously with heavily lined eyes and spoke again in what must have been Dutch.

"Sorry," Elizabeta said in German, "I don't—"

"English?"

Yes! I can do English," Elizabeta replied in relief.

"Good," the woman said, "because the only other language I know is Latin and I didn't expect you to know that. Anyway, I was saying before that it's no use knocking. They're not home."

Elizabeta felt her stomach drop. "Where are they?"

The woman narrowed her eyes. "Are you a friend of Belle? Or Alec? I've never seen you around before."

"No, um, it's a little complicated. Basically, Belle and I accidently switched bags and I need to find her as soon as possible and get mine back. I'm sort of on a tight schedule so if you know where she and her brother are I would really appreciate it if you could tell me or at least contact her for me."

The woman looked as if she was trying to decide whether or not to believe this story.

Finally, she said, "They've gone to Brussels to visit their parents."

Elizabeta's jaw dropped. "As in...Belgium?"

"That's the only Brussels I know of. They were supposed to drive down after their train got in."

Elizabeta's head was spinning. So much for in and out of Amsterdam. She was going to kill Gilbert for opening his big mouth.

"You…you wouldn't happen to know exactly where in Brussels their parents live, would you?"

The woman shook her head. "All I remember is Belle once saying her parents live in Brussels. If you're willing to wait, they'll be back in two weeks."

"Like I said before, I'm sort of on a tight schedule and, on top of that, my whole life is in that bag. I can't afford to wait."

"In that case, Brussels is only a little over two hours away by car. It's not exactly a small city but I don't think it would be impossible to find someone there."

From inside the woman's apartment came the sound of a phone ringing.

"I've got to get that," she said. "Good luck. I hope you get your things back."

The woman closed the door and Elizabeta was left standing alone in the hallway. She really had no choice except to go to Brussels. She could hardly have imagined she would be in this kind of situation when she stepped off the train less than an hour earlier. She tried to look on the bright side. What if this was fate? What if true love was waiting for her in Brussels? And even if it wasn't, she would at least finally get to see the capital of the European Union. Also, while it was true that she was on a schedule, it was not exactly tight. It was for situations such as this—well maybe not _exactly_ like this—that she had purposely set aside an extra 40 "emergency" days. Losing a day or two was no major problem at all. The real problem was going to be finding Belle and her brother. Just because it wasn't impossible to find them in such a large city didn't mean it wouldn't be hard.

"So, everything's all worked out now, right?" Gilbert asked when Elizabeta climbed back into the taxi.

"No, they weren't there. We're going to Brussels."

Gilbert made a choking noise. "A-as in Belgium?"

"That's the one."

"Why the hell are we going there?"

"Because that's where Belle and her brother are going. One of their neighbors told me that they've gone to visit their parents there. They won't be back here for two weeks and there's no way I'm hanging around here for that long. Stop giving me that look."

"I'm not giving you any look! Why do you always think I'm giving you some look?"

"You're silently judging me, I know it."

"I think I'm justified in judging you."

"It wasn't my fault!"

"Mhmm. Sure. Of course. You're perfect, innocent Liz. You can do no wrong." Gilbert didn't wait for her reply and leaned towards the taxi driver. "So, how much is it going to cost for you to drive us to Brussels?"

"More than you can afford."

"Try me."

"€600."

"You're shitting me. €300."

"Get the fuck out of my taxi."

"Okay, €400."

"€550."

"€425."

"€535."

"€450. How can you resist a face like this?"

"€520 is my final offer. Take it or get out."

Gilbert glared back at Elizabeta. "You owe me."

She gave him a sheepish smile and promised to pay him back. _With_ interest.

* * *

"So, what's the plan?" Gilbert asked two and a half hours later when they finally arrived in the city. "Where do we even start? We're not just going to go knocking on doors, are we?"

"Of course not," Elizabeta replied. "We need to find an internet café. We can use the white pages to find them."

The driver dropped them off at the first internet café they spotted. Surprisingly, he also gave them the name of a bed and breakfast to go to if they ended up having to spend the night in the city.

"My brother-in-law works for the EU and whenever my sister visits she stays there. You won't find a better deal anywhere."

"Thanks again for driving us all the way here," Elizabeta said.

Gilbert mumbled something she didn't quite hear, which was probably for the best. He was still bitter about all the money he had been forced to spend. Gilbert was perfectly fine throwing his money away except when he knew there was a definite limit to how much he could spend. Then he became a worse penny pincher than Elizabeta.

The white pages ended up being a disappointment. There were only two listings with the same surname as Belle that lived in the area and neither was likely to be her parents. The first was a 22-year old university student. The second was 97-year old man.

"He could be her grandfather," Gilbert said after Elizabeta closed the browser window.

"Somehow, I doubt it." She groaned and sat back in her chair. "What now?"

"You're asking me?"

"In a shocking turn of events, yes."

She had no other ideas. Either Belle called her within the next 24 hours or they really would have to start knocking on doors.

"My brother might be able to help."

"How?"

"You can find anyone in the world if you have enough money and know the right people to call. My grandfather had a lot of business contacts—some shadier than others—who can do some digging for us. Let's hope my all-righteous and honorable brother still has their numbers."

"Why didn't you bring this up earlier?"

"First, you never asked. Second, unlike you, I'm not always thinking of what favors I can ask of Ludwig."

Elizabeta blushed. "I do not—"

But Gilbert was already dialing his brother's number. When Ludwig didn't answer his cellphone, Gilbert reluctantly called his office number. His secretary answered and informed them that Ludwig was in a meeting.

"At this time? Does that guy ever go home?"

"Mr. Beilschmidt is very dedicated to his work," the secretary replied.

"He's an anal workaholic you mean. Anyway, tell him to call me back as soon as he can. Tell him it's an emergency. Oh, and it's very important that you tell him it involves Elizabeta. That will get his attention."

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "Was that last part really necessary?" she asked when Gilbert hung up.

"Of course. If he thinks I'm having problems, he won't call for like a week. For you, I give him two hours. Let's go get some food; I'm starving."

It took Ludwig only 90 minutes to call back. They were sitting outside a bakery enjoying the local delicacies—chocolate waffles for Elizabeta and beer for Gilbert—when Gilbert's phone rang.

"That must be my darling brother," he said as he set down his tankard. "That was faster than I thought it would be. Aw, he must still really like you. What's it like being a heartbreaker?"

Elizabeta covered her face with her hands and tried not to feel guilty.

Gilbert answered the phone with his usual flair. "West, where the hell have you been? I swear you live at your office. You need to get out more. Go meet a nice lady…or man…or whatever you're into, hell if I know. How's Feliciano? You remember who that is, right? I know sometimes you forget that there exists a world full of people outside the four walls of your office. Has he asked about me? Can you tell him I—"

Elizabeta had had enough. She reached across the table and snatched the phone away from Gilbert.

"What the hell?" Gilbert yelled loud enough for the people at the neighboring table to start staring. "I was talking!"

Elizabeta smacked his hands away and pushed her chair out of his reach.

"You were wasting time," she snapped. She put the phone to her ear. "Hello, Ludwig. It's Elizabeta."

"Oh, h-hello again. How are you? What has my brother done now?"

"Actually, this time Gilbert is innocent…mostly."

Gilbert made a face at her.

"I'm the one that messed up this time." Elizabeta quickly explained what had happened at the train station, as well as their recent failure to locate Belle or her brother. "I was just starting to worry that we would have to start knocking on doors when Gilbert told me that your grandfather knew, er, certain individuals who can find information about people. I was really hoping that you might be able to get in touch with one of these…individuals and see if they can find out where Belle's parents live."

"Christ, Liz," Gilbert muttered. "You're making this sound more sketch than it should."

She ignored him and continued. "I'm so sorry if this is a bad time. It's just that I really need that bag."

"It's no problem at all," Ludwig said. "All I need is Belle's full name and date of birth, nothing else is necessary. It will only take one phone call but the earliest I can guarantee you any information is tomorrow morning. Is that okay?"

Elizabeta winced. Gilbert wasn't going to be happy about paying for a room but she wasn't about to start putting pressure on Ludwig so that he could help her fix her stupid mistake.

"Yeah, it's perfect," she said. "Actually, it gives me some time to explore Brussels a little. I've always wanted to visit the Grote Markt. Thank you so much Ludwig. I really appreciate you helping me out like this. I feel like I'm always asking you for one favor or the other these days. I owe you, big time."

"You don't owe me anything, honestly. I'm happy to help. In fact, if it wasn't for you and your whole trip, I would probably be spending most of my time trying to get my brother to come into work and be a productive member of society. Thank you for taking him with you and delaying that fate for a few months."

Elizabeta laughed and Gilbert narrowed his eyes.

"What's so funny?" he asked suspiciously. "I bet you're talking about me. Give me the phone, Liz."

"I can hear him," Ludwig said.

"Would you like to speak to him again?"

"I might as well."

"Oh, before I forget, how _is_ Feliciano?"

"No fair, Liz! That was my question!"

Ludwig sighed. "Very loud. He's almost always eating something. I don't understand how one person can eat so much. And when he's not eating, he's talking. He can talk about anything. _Anything_."

"Thank you for bearing with him for this long. I'm sure his brother will say it's safe for him to go home soon."

"Let's hope so. To be honest, I don't really mind the company. I just wish he wasn't always…there. I'm tired of explaining the concept of personal space and I'm tired of cleaning up flour and tomato sauce."

"Stay strong, Ludwig. Stay strong. Okay, Gilbert looks about five seconds away from jumping me so I'm going to give him the phone now. Take care!"

"You too."

Gilbert snatched the phone from her hands at lightning speed. Elizabeta listened to him complain to his brother about how unfair the limit on his account was and then, after it was obvious that Ludwig wasn't going to budge on the matter, Gilbert spend the next ten minutes asking about Feliciano. Elizabeta eventually tuned out the conversation and instead let her mind wander to the last person she should be thinking about but one person she couldn't get off her mind.

...

They found the bed and breakfast the taxi driver had told them about and booked a room for the night. Elizabeta thought the price was reasonable. Gilbert only glared at the bill.

When Elizabeta came back into the room after brushing her teeth, she was surprised to find Gilbert sitting cross-legged on her bed, reading a book. It was a surprising scene because she could count on one hand the number of times she had seen Gilbert reading a book.

"What are you reading?" she asked.

"Belle's diary. I found it in her bag," he said casually as he flipped a page.

"Oh…wait, what? Gilbert, you can't just read someone's diary!"

"Well, at first I didn't even know it was a diary. I thought it was a very sad handwritten book. I saw it in her bag and thought it might help us get the hell out of here. It's more boring than scandalous, although she does have a decent writing style."

Elizabeta grabbed the diary out of Gilbert's hands and pushed him off her bed.

"I cannot believe you sometimes. This is practically a complete stranger's privacy you're invading!"

"Well, not so much a _complete_ stranger anymore. I've learned quite a lot about Miss. Belle," Gilbert said slyly.

"Like what?" Elizabeta asked before she could stop herself.

Gilbert pointed to the diary in her hand. "Find out yourself. Most of it's in French though, so I don't know how much you'll understand."

"No. Unlike you, I have morals."

Elizabeta put the diary back in the bag, zipped the bag up, and then slipped it underneath her pillow.

"I was just curious," Gilbert said.

"I think you need to reassess your definition of curiosity." Elizabeta climbed into bed. "I'm going to sleep now. Try to take the bag and I will beat you."

"Are you sure you don't want to hear some of her secrets? I think they would...interest you."

"No! Go to bed!"

...

Ludwig called the next morning during breakfast with good news.

"Found them. The problem was a simple one. Three years ago when Belle's mother remarried, she took her husband's name, which was why you found no results when you searched Belle's surname. They moved to a new house last week as well. This would understandably make the search more complicated."

Elizabeta sighed in relief. "Thank you so much."

She was anxious to get her bag back. Not just because it contained her wallet and keys but also because she didn't want to miss any phone calls. She never knew when her ever fretful mother might call and she still had to check Antonio's message. And, of course, she didn't want to miss any of _his_ calls, if he even ever called, a little voice whispered in the back of her mind. She told the voice to shut up.

Ludwig gave her the address to Belle's parent's house, as well as their home phone number. Elizabeta thanked him again before hanging up. Immediately, she called the house number. An automated voice informed her that the number was not currently in service.

"Let's just go over there," Gilbert said after she had called the third time and received the same result. "Ludwig did say they just moved in. They probably haven't had time to set up their phone. Calm down."

"I am calm!" Elizabeta snapped. "Now call a taxi!"

Belle's parents lived in a pretty neighborhood near the European Quarter. Their house had green shutters and a green door. Elizabeta knocked nervously on the door and felt her heart skip a beat when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal a middle-aged man with thinning grey hair and dark green eyes.

"Can I help you?" he asked in French.

Elizabeta froze. She hadn't prepared for this moment and she definitely hadn't anticipated a conversation in French. Luckily, Gilbert spoke up before she could embarrass herself.

"Yeah, we were wondering if Belle is home?" he asked. It seemed that the two weeks spent in Paris had actually improved his French.

"Why do you ask about my step-daughter?" the man replied.

At least Elizabeta thought he said step-daughter; she was 80% certain.

Gilbert did his best to explain what had happened at the train station. Elizabeta understood some of what he said but, really, a school year of French could only take you so far, especially when you had spent the nights before your French exams pouring through Italian dictionaries for fun. She only hoped that Gilbert had enough sense not to mention how they had actually obtained this address. When Gilbert was done, the man gave them a sympathetic look.

"I'm sorry but it seems that you have come here for nothing," he said. "My son and step-daughter are not here now. Yes, they are indeed coming to visit, but not for at least a week. They are taking a short holiday in Valkenburg."

Gilbert hesitantly translated all of this for Elizabeta.

"I feel like someone is playing a bad joke on me," she said quietly.

"Where the fuck is Valkenburg?" Gilbert asked her.

"The Netherlands."

"Seriously? We came all this way here and…fuck!"

"Tell me about it. This is a nightmare. Well, at least we know where they are now. Can you ask him for the address of the place they're staying?"

Gilbert did so and then translated the reply back with his own personal commentary.

"You're going to fucking flip," he said. His eyes were wide and he looked paler than normal.

"What did he say? I only caught 'my wife knows' and 'sister's house'."

"He doesn't know the address to the hotel they're staying. He can't call them because Alec doesn't even have a phone—he thinks they're too expensive—and Belle lost hers a few days back. His wife, who actually knows the address, is visiting her sister, who lives in Ukraine, and won't be back until the day after tomorrow. He can't call her either because she left her phone at home. And the cherry on the top of this whole fucking mess? Her sister's phone is broken. _What the fuck?_"

It seemed to Elizabeta that the universe was trying to tell her to give up on getting her bag back and she was tempted to listen.

"This is ridiculous," she said. Somehow she managed to keep her voice calm and steady, even though what she really wanted to do was take the cat statue by the window and punt it across the lawn. "This is absolutely ridiculous!" She took a deep breath. "But, I guess the only thing we can do is wait. With how things have been going lately I won't be surprised if something else goes wrong though."

They thanked Belle's step-father and he promised to contact them as soon as his wife returned home.

Gilbert suggested they use their free time to explore the city. For once, Elizabeta wasn't in the mood.

"But you never know what or _who_ you'll find," Gilbert said.

He was in a strangely good mood. Elizabeta had expected him to be more upset since he would have to pay for two more nights at the B&B.

"Right now, I just want to find my bag," she said.

So, Gilbert went on by himself to sight-see, which probably meant visit all the alcohol serving establishments in the city, and Elizabeta went back to the B&B to lie down. She had a terrible headache and all she wanted to do was sleep and wake up to find that this was all some bad dream.

Before climbing into bed, she took Belle's bag out from underneath her pillow. Sleeping on it had been a little more than uncomfortable. And it was unlikely that Gilbert would be back anytime soon so there was no need to guard it. Without thinking, she zipped open the bag. Perhaps, she had missed something; perhaps, there was something in there that could still help them. Her fingers fumbled on the bag handle and she swore as the bag slipped through her fingers and fell to the floor, spilling its contents everywhere. She sighed and knelt down to pack everything up. The diary had fallen open and when she picked it up, her eyes couldn't help but fall on the first line on the page.

_"If there's one thing I've learned by now, it's that, in life, none of us get the things we want."_

The handwriting was neat and, although she stumbled on a few words, Elizabeta got the general meaning.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was already reading further down the page, understanding only a little over half of what she read.

_"If I sound selfish and...it's probably because I am...of course I...but at the same time...I should be...to be a little selfish sometimes."_

"I need a dictionary," Elizabeta said out loud. This caused her to realize what exactly she was doing. Quickly, she slammed the diary shut and shoved it back in the bag.

"At this rate, I'm going to end up as bad as Gilbert," she muttered.

She slid the bag under her bed and then fell down with a loud sigh on top of the blankets. She didn't sleep for a long time. She woke up when Gilbert came stomping into the room hours later. After much resisting, she finally allowed herself to be ushered out of the room and out onto the street to enjoy 'nightlife in Brussels'. She and Gilbert didn't return to the B&B until the early morning hours. Gilbert dropped like a rock onto his bed but Elizabeta had too much energy to sleep. She grabbed Belle's bag from under her bed and retreated to the common room downstairs. Unsurprisingly, at nearly five in the morning, it was empty. She curled up on an overstuffed chair and pulled the diary out of the bag.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to no one, "I'm so sorry."

She flipped to the page she had started reading that afternoon. Slowly, she read on.

_"I suppose...start from the beginning...a year ago...mum remarried...and I was blessed-or cursed-with a new father and brother...always wanted a brother...but...more than I bargained for. At the time, I had yet to become truly selfish...I like to think...am a good daughter...my own business...happily unmarried...I had no reason to be selfish. I would be...simplifying...to say only love made me selfish. It's more complicated than that...even now I understand little. Maybe I wanted too much. But, back to the beginning..._

_I didn't need a new father, but I accepted Marc. If he had let me, I would have loved Alec right away. But he...in a manner I have come to understand as his own...kept away. Looking back...for the best, perhaps...loved too much. It's important to clarify...at the time...but now...so let me continue. It was easy to think Alec hated me at first. Understandably...very upsetting. I thought, maybe if I smiled more or...but that only made everything worse. I wanted so much for him...but there is only so much one person can take. Eventually, I...better off apart. I moved back to Namur. Of course I didn't...what would happen next."_

Elizabeta paused here. The sun was starting to rise and she heard the sound of people moving around upstairs. Reluctantly, she closed the diary. She felt a mix of guilt and excitement. She wanted to know what happened next as much as she wished she had never opened the diary in the first place.

_I'm a terrible person,_ she thought. No wonder the universe was punishing her by sending her on this maddening cross country chase in search of a bag.

She put the diary back in the bag and went back to her room. Gilbert was still fast asleep. She didn't expect to sleep, so she was surprised when she woke up some time later and found that it was almost noon. She was just climbing out of bed when Gilbert walked into the room.

"Finally, I thought you were going to sleep all day," he said. "Let's find some food."

Halfway through lunch, Vash called to ask Gilbert to run a few errands for him. Gilbert asked how he would be compensated for his efforts. Whatever Vash's reply was, it made Gilbert mutter a reluctant agreement.

"Does you cousin have a bank account in every major European city?" Elizabeta asked when he hung up the phone.

"Yes," Gilbert replied in all seriousness, "and many more around the world."

They went their separate ways after lunch. Gilbert went to run the errands and Elizabeta went back to the B&B to pick up the diary. After asking for directions, she hurried to the nearest library. The tiny, cheerful librarian personally escorted her to the area where the dictionaries were kept. Because she couldn't decide which would be easier to use, she took both the French to German and French to English dictionaries and then retreated to a quiet corner. Although it was extremely time consuming to look up every word she didn't know, she was able to understand much more of Belle's diary.

_"...it was late summer when I saw Alec again. It was certainly a shock when he turned up at my flat one evening without warning. It had been almost six months since we had spoken. I would be...if I said I had become accustomed to the fact that my new step-brother, who I so desperately wanted to accept me, actually hated me. Mostly, I tried to live with it. Easier said than done, of course. _

_So I asked Alec on that evening in August what he was doing standing in the doorway of my flat. He said he didn't quite know. How to reply to this...so I suggested we get something to eat. In my experience...so I hoped the same would apply here. While we ate, I asked again, 'Alec, why are you here? Is everything alright?' and nothing could have prepared me for his reply. _

_'Come back to Amsterdam,' he said. It wasn't a question._

_I...hadn't I left Amsterdam because I believed he wanted nothing to do with me? And here he was asking, no, not asking, commanding me to come back!_

_'I don't understand,' I replied, doing my best to keep calm. 'We haven't spoken in months and then suddenly you're here saying these things...how should I respond? I thought you hated me?"_

_He looked the closest to guilty I've ever seen him when I said this. _

_'I never hated you,' he replied. _

_Something you must know about my brother is that he is both the most frustrating and most wonderful person I know. _

_'I never hated you,' he said again. 'If I hated you, I wouldn't be here. So come back to Amsterdam.'_

_People often make the mistake of thinking that because I am a generally cheerful person and...that I will do whatever they ask of me. Alec too assumed this and, in that moment, I was never more furious with him in my life._

_'I will not!' I was nearly yelling. 'You have no right to ask me this! I never would have left Amsterdam if you hadn't pushed me away! I will not be a marionette, to be yanked this way and that way by my string!'_

_Alec looked angry by then and I thought good, I want him to know that I'm not so easy to control._

_'I can't...I won't explain why I did what I did,' he said._

_'Then I'm done here.' I stood up to leave._

_"No! Wait, please.'_

_I don't think I had ever heard him say please before and it was because of this I stayed._

_He struggled to get out the next words. 'Look, you need to understand that it wasn't my intention to upset you. I thought it was better we were not close because I...am not a very easy person to care about. I thought it was better this way.'_

_I was on the verge of tears by that point. 'You're an idiot, you know that? I _was_ upset! I was very upset! I finally get the brother I always wanted and he can't bear to be in my company for more than five minutes! Why wouldn't I be upset?'_

_'I hoped after you left, it would be easy to forget...but you make quite the impression. I came here tonight because I'm a very selfish person. Come back to Amsterdam. I know you will because you're selfish too.'_

_Well, in the end, it turned out that Alec knew me better than I knew myself. And with that, it was settled. But it would be...to think we led a happily ever after life. It is critical to note that it was not the number of times one of us stormed out of the flat that is important; what matters is that we always came_ back_. Even as I write this, if you asked me what Alec is to me, I wouldn't be able to answer. Is he a step-brother? Lover? Friend? Honestly, I can't say. All I know that is that he is mine and I am his and, with each other, we can be a little selfish.'_

The librarian came over to tell Elizabeta that the library was closing. She had completely lost track of the time and was surprised to find that it was already growing dark outside. Gilbert was waiting for her at the B&B. He was in one of his moods. The kind that only copious amounts of alcohol could cure. As much as Elizabeta would have liked to stay in, she put on her best game face and spent the rest of the night jumping from one bar to the next. She got up early the following morning and hurried back to the library. She had almost reached the end of the diary entry and she had sworn that she wouldn't read anymore once she was finished. Surrounded by her many dictionaries, she started to read the last part of the entry.

_'Of course, everything will change once I give Alec the Letter. Like I said when I first began writing this, in life, none of us get the things we want. When I give Alec the Letter, and I say 'when' instead of 'if' because I do intend to give it to him, but...and I am not ready for that. I have read the Letter so many times I know it by heart. I wish I could just throw it away. The Letter will ruin everything. Which is why I won't give it to Alec, not yet. Just for a little longer, I want to be selfish.'_

Elizabeta closed the diary and sat back in her chair. The entry ended there and it took all her self-control not to read the rest of the diary. She suddenly remembered that there had been a letter in Belle's bag. She wondered if that letter and the Letter were one in the same. Elizabeta put away all the dictionaries and left the library, thanking the librarian on the way out. She expected Gilbert to be annoyed with her for leaving without at least writing him a note, but when she walked into the room, he was grinning.

"Belle's step-dad just called. His wife arrived this morning." He held up a piece of paper. "Got the address."

Elizabeta felt a rush of relief, but also a tinge of sadness, for what reason, she couldn't understand.

They managed to find a sympathetic taxi driver who only charged them half of what the 90 minutes drive would normally cost. Elizabeta waited until Gilbert nodded off before she pulled the letter out of Belle's bag. It was addressed to Alec and thankfully in English. It wasn't a very long letter. It read:

_We're pleased to inform you that our firm in New York City has a position available for you. We were very impressed by your work and would love for you to join our team. If you are interested in accepting this once in a lifetime position, please contact us at the number listed below by July 10th. We hope to hear from you!_

The letter was dated April 25th. Elizabeta slipped Gilbert's phone out of his pocket. It confirmed that it was July 9th. Belle had been holding onto the letter for over two months. Elizabeta wondered if it really was fate that they had switched bags. Maybe the universe hadn't been trying to keep her from finding her bag. Maybe, it just wanted her to learn a lesson first.

When they arrived in Valkenburg at the address Belle's step-dad had given then, Elizabeta half expected to find that the hotel had burnt down. Yet, it was still standing and, when she knocked on the door of the room the hotel manager had directed her to, Belle opened the it, looking as cheery as when Elizabeta had last seen her.

"Oh, hello! Didn't we literally run into each other at the train station a few days ago? Elizabeta, right?"

"Yep, that's me. I'm going to make a very long story short and just say, you have my bag and I have yours."

Elizabeta handed the bag in her hands to Belle.

"R-Really?" Belled zipped open the bag and gasped. "Oh my gosh! This is my bag! This is...oh, wow! I haven't even touched that bag since we got here so I didn't even notice! Oh gosh, this is actually really embarrassing. I can't imagine what you had to go through to find me."

Elizabeta laughed. "You don't want to know."

"Would you like to come in? My brother is taking a nap right now, but, when he wakes up, we could all get dinner."

"As tempted as I am to accept, I really need to get going."

"Oh, okay then. Let me just get your bag."

Belle returned a few seconds later with Elizabeta's bag. To be sure, she zipped it open to examine the contents.

"I wish there was a way I could thank you," Belle said.

"Please, don't. I don't deserve any thanks." Elizabeta bit her lip. Time to come clean. "I...I wanted you to know that I...it's okay to be selfish sometimes."

Belle's face froze. "W-what?"

Elizabeta's heart was racing. "I shouldn't have, but I did. And I'm sorry, but also not sorry because I needed to know. I needed to know, that how I felt was okay. I needed to know that it was okay to hope. Even if that hope makes me selfish, I needed to know."

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Finally, Belle spoke up.

"S-should I give him the letter?" she asked softly.

Elizabeta nodded. "Yeah, I think you should."

Belle sniffed and wiped her eyes. "Okay. Okay then. I will." She gave Elizabeta a sad smile. "Thank you. I should be angry with you but, to be honest, I'm glad you read it. I wish we had met under different circumstances."

Elizabeta struggled to keep the tears back. "Yeah, me too."

"Bye, Elizabeta."

"Bye, Belle."

...

"Please, tell me that's your bag," Gilbert said when Elizabeta stepped out of the hotel.

Elizabeta sighed dramatically. "Well, you see," she opened the bag, "it's most definitely mine."

"Thank God. Let's get the fuck out of this country before anything else happens."

Gilbert started back towards the taxi.

"Hold up, let me check Antonio's message first."

Elizabeta pulled out her phone at the same time the door to the hotel opened, hitting her in the shoulder.

"Fuck!" she said as the phone fell from her hands. It smashed onto the ground and shattered.

* * *

"So, what's it gonna be?" Gilbert asked. The early morning light reflected off his hair. "London or Rosebury?"

Elizabeta yawned. They had had to get up early to catch the ferry. "I think I'm tired of big cities. Let's go to Rosebury."

"Sweet! Imogene's going to be so happy. Too bad she won't be there."

"Is she still in Paris?"

"No, she texted me the other day that she's in Moscow doing a small showing there."

"Wow, who would have thought? You and K.A.R.A as texting buddies."

A gust of cool air swept over the deck of the ferry.

Gilbert shivered. "Let's go back inside. I'm hungry and it's boring out here."

Besides them, the only people on the deck were two elderly women chatting amongst themselves. Elizabeta was content walking around the deck until they got to Dover but she followed Gilbert back inside nonetheless. If she had stayed outside a little longer, she would have heard the following conversation and, perhaps, her eventual fate would have been different.

"Sarah-Jane, do you know where Rosebury is?" one of the elderly women asked her companion.

Sarah-Jane shook her head. "No, I don't believe I do."

"Well, it's a charming little town about two hours outside London. That fancy new painter, K.A.R.A, is from there. Anyway, I mentioned it because my grandniece...you remember Susan, right? Well, Susan and her husband live there, or shall I say lived there. Two nights ago she called me to say that they were leaving until further notice. She said the most terrible things have been happening there."

"Like what?"

"_Murders_. They believe there's a serial killer living in that town!"

Sarah-Jane gasped. "Are you serious? That's horrible! How many have been killed?"

"Three so far and in the most gruesome way. Susan told me that all the victims were first tortured then drowned. And the worst part is that, when they were found, they were all missing their hands!"

"Oh, Jackie, stop! I don't want to hear anymore! What are the authorities doing about it?"

"Up until now, they've been completely stumped. I mean, a little town like that, it would be shocking if someone stole money. Apparently they've gone and brought in a big-shot detective from London to help them out. Oh, what was his name again? Kirkland! That was it! He's said to have quite a reputation."

"Is that a good or bad thing?"

"I don't care what kind of thing it is as long as he catches that psycho."

"Oh, what is this world coming to?"

"I'm just glad Susan and her husband got out of there. No sane person would go to that town now."

* * *

_Palermo, Sicily_

The man smiled when he saw her. She returned the smile and winked.

"Going my way, soldier?" she asked as she walked past him, just barely brushing her shoulder against his.

"Depends on where you're headed," he called after her.

"Hell, baby," she replied without turning around. "Along with everyone else in this fucking city."

She heard the man laugh and Valentina grinned wider. She wondered how long it would take him to figure out she stole his wallet.

She turned right at the next street corner into an alley that ended at a brick wall. Some time ago, someone had kicked in a few of the bricks, creating perfect foot-and handholds. It only took Valentina a few seconds to climb the wall. She landed gracefully on the other side. Her destination was only about a five minute walk away but, to lose anyone who might be following her, she had to go the long way to get there. Half an hour later she stopped outside a crumbling building in an equally crumbling neighborhood. There was no front door, but that was fine because she never went through the front. She walked around to the side of the building where there hung a rusty ladder. She climbed slowly until she reached the third window from the bottom. She slid the window open and then pulled herself inside. The room was empty except for a battered mattress leaning against the wall. The mattress was full of holes from where mice had made their homes. Valentina reached into one of these holes and pulled out a small key. Then she climbed back out the window and continued up the ladder until she reached the roof of the building. She didn't even hesitate before she started running. When she reached the edge, she jumped and landed on the roof of the building next door. Off to the side of the roof was another ladder. This one didn't go all the way to the ground but stopped a few feet short. She climbed halfway down the ladder before stopping at a window that had been smashed in. Carefully, she slipped through. The room she ended up in was very similar to the first, except the walls were covered in dried blood. She ignored the mess and went to open the door. She stepped into an empty hallway and closed the door behind her. At the end of the hall was a flight of stairs. She went down one floor. The door that led from stairs to the hallway was locked and it was here she used the key she had gotten from the other building. She stopped at the third door down the hall and knocked softly.

"Who is it?" said a voice on the other side.

"Artemis," Valentina replied.

The door opened and she stepped inside.

"You're late," said man who had opened the door. He was tall and muscular with curly brown hair. He wasn't exactly handsome, but he was pleasing to look at.

Valentina reached into her jacket and pulled out the wallet she had stolen earlier. "I was shopping."

The man frowned. "I thought Maria told you to stop doing that. People might start to remember your face."

Valentina snorted. "This guy was too busy looking at my tits. I could have had two heads and he never would have noticed. Besides, we need the money."

"You take too many risks, Valentina."

"Cesare, I adore you, but please, learn to relax."

Cesare frowned. "I don't understand how you can say that, considering our situation."

"I'm an optimist. You know, the glass is half full? Anyway, is Maria here?"

"She's in the other room. She's not in a good mood."

Valentina groaned. "Wish me luck then because I'm about to go make it worse."

She walked past the kitchen where two other men and a woman were watching football on a small television.

"Well, if it isn't Miss. Valentina," one of the men called out. "Where have you been all day? I missed that face."

"You mean you missed my ass."

"Is there any other part of you worth looking at?"

"Shut the fuck up, Gabriele," the woman next him snapped. "I can't hear the game."

Valentina laughed and kept walking. At the end of the hallway was a door that she opened gently. The small room was packed with everything from old clothes to phone jammers. Scattered on the floor were papers and old photographs; in one corner, there was a box full of prepaid mobile phones; taped to the ceiling was an old television satellite; two broken laptops lay sadly next to the window. In the middle of this mess was a tiny desk, at which sat a young woman. The desk was just as cluttered as the rest of the room. The woman was flipping through a large stack of papers and gave no sign that she noticed when Valentina stepped into the room.

"You're late," she said after a few seconds. She didn't look up from the papers in her hands. "Where have you been?"

Valentina walked up to the desk and set down the wallet. "I brought you a gift."

The woman stared at the wallet but didn't pick it up. "I told you to stop doing that. You'll be the ruin of us all."

"If it wasn't for the money I bring in, we'd all be starving by now."

"Don't try to justify your actions. Sometimes you can be so stupid, Valentina."

Valentina stiffened and tried to think of something clever to say but her throat had gone dry.

The woman finally looked up from the papers when the silence stretched too long. Maria Lima was a beautiful woman. She had her mother's famous face, but not her eyes. She had her father's eyes and they were cold and angry. She was only 19 but anyone who underestimated her because of her age would not live long. She was as dangerous as she was lovely. Even though she knew it was stupid to do so, Valentina couldn't help but silently love her.

"So, have you actually brought me anything useful today, Valentina?" Maria asked.

Valentina swallowed. "I have news, but you won't like it."

Maria's frown deepened. "Well, spit it out then."

"Another family has joined up."

"Which one?" Maria asked sharply.

"The Salvatore Family."

Maria's eye widened. "Impossible! My father used to say Angelo Salvatore was the most stubborn man he ever knew. A man like that would never give up his power."

Valentina licked her lips. "He didn't. He was found dead this morning. His brother-in-law has taken control. It was him who said yes."

Maria got to her feet so fast Valentina had to step back.

"What is happening, Valentina? Has this whole city gone mad?" Maria went over to pick some papers off the floor but barely glanced at them before throwing them over her shoulder. She ran a hand through her short dark hair. "That's six families! Six! Nothing makes sense anymore!"

"Maria, each family that joins up makes it more dangerous for us to be here. We should go."

"No! I'm not going anywhere!"

"Maria, please. We've searched everywhere. Lovino isn't here. And if he is still in the city, then he's six feet under."

"Don't say that!" Maria yelled. "We will find him. I _have_ to find him."

"Maria-"

"Enough, Valentina! I don't want to hear anymore."

Maria went over to the box of mobile phones and picked one out.

Valetina paled. "Y-You're going out?"

"I'm tired of being shut in here like an animal. Yes, I'm going out."

"And you call me stupid! You can't go out! You're sure to be noticed."

Maria walked up to her until their faces were only inches apart. "I will do what I want, Valentina. Not you or Cesare or anyone can stop me. So don't even try."

Before Valentina could reply, Maria swept out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

_July 20th_

_Dear Roderich,_

_It will take more than a letter for me to explain what has been happening since I arrived in England. I should have just gone to London like I originally wanted to. Coming to Rosebury was the worst decision I've ever made. I wish I could explain, but I can't. Don't bother replying to this because I don't know how long I'll be at this address. Please, don't call either. When I can, I will call you. I'm sorry, but that's all I can say._

_-Elizabeta_

* * *

**A/N:** Again, please refer to Ch. 5 (Romano/Lovino's chapter), if you're confused about who Maria is.

I'm excited to write the next two chapters. Sorry again for taking so long with this one :)


	13. England: Day 72 -78

**a/n:** Thanks for the all the feedback! :) Just letting you all know that this and the next chapter are both going to get pretty dark at points. Also, Rosebury is a fictional town of my own creation.

**Warnings for this chapter:** mentions of physical abuse/torture, mentions of sexual abuse, some descriptions of violence

* * *

_England_:

_Day 72- 78_

The taxi driver should have been the first hint that something was wrong. When Elizabeta told him the address of the hotel, she saw in the rearview his eyebrows rise almost to his hairline.

"Are you sure about that, Miss?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied. "Do you know the place?"

"Very well," the man said somberly. "Not, uh, interested in seeing anything in London, are we?"

Elizabeta shook her head. "No, I've been too many times," she lied.

"My wife always says you can never visit London too many times."

Elizabeta glanced at Gilbert, who only shrugged.

"Well, uh, I'm sure she's right but today we would very much like to Rosebury," she said.

The driver's hands tightened on the wheel. "It's…it's just…you see…" He sighed heavily. "Never mind. It's nothing to worry about."

"You sure about that?" Gilbert asked.

"Yes, it was just a…personal concern. A silly thing really." The driver pulled the taxi away from the curb. "So, Rosebury, yes. It's a very lovely town. Did you know, the painter K.A.R.A is from there? The weather is very nice today. A very good day to travel."

The driver continued in this manner for the rest of the drive. He spontaneously switched topics and pointed out everything from ancient looking farms to cows grazing in fields. At the time, Elizabeta put it down to his own strange nature; there were more pressing matters at hand. She was running out of money. While on the ferry, she had used Gilbert's phone to check her account balance. What she had found had caused her to go slightly pale. With the amount of money she had left, she could, at most, keep traveling for three more weeks. There were so many little expenses that she hadn't anticipated when she had first planned the trip. And then there had been that first week in Paris when she had thrown caution to the wind and spent money like it was nobody's business. Yes, the hold on Gilbert's account would be taken off in a week and he had enough money for them to keep them traveling probably until the end of time, but the last thing she wanted was to have to depend on Gilbert. Therefore, she had two options. The first was to throw in the towel early and give up on finding 'true love'. The second was to go back home and beg her parents for money. Neither option was particularly appealing. There was a decent chance her parents would give her the loan, but not without a long talk about 'responsibility' and the importance of saving money. No doubt, her mother would make some sort of comment about her going back to school. She had been adamant about Elizabeta getting her Masters and had disapproved of the trip in the first place.

"_Why travel around the world when you can find a nice husband at the university?"_she had said shortly before Elizabeta left. _"You think you'll find someone in France? Or Italy? Let me tell you something about Italian men. They're heartbreakers, all of them. They'll only make you cry, Lizzy."_

Well, it seemed her mother had been right about one thing.

As mentally exhausting as a future encounter with her parents would be, Elizabeta wasn't ready to give up yet. When she was being honest with herself, she knew that she wasn't looking for a _who_ anymore, so much as for a…something. Because, even if she didn't find 'true love', she wanted to find something that would let her know that all _this_ hadn't been in vain.

She wanted to know, in the end, it had all been worth it.

...

...

Rosebury was as pretty as all the brochures had described it. There were colorful rosebushes at nearly every street corner and in front of many of the houses and storefronts as well. The houses were actually more like cottages and the whole town had a comfy, old-fashioned feel to it. In the middle of the town was a beautiful fountain that depicted a solemn woman wearing flowing robes. She wore a crown of leaves and cradled in one arm what looked like a bundle of grain stalks.

There was one major hotel in town. It was located at the top of a series of small hills. It was called Maison Coquelicot. It meant 'poppy house', Gilbert explained later. The hotel had been built using a type of beautiful pink stone. It had two levels and was designed in a picturesque storybook style that would have made classic romantics sigh.

The taxi driver was nervous and jumpy as he helped them unload their bags. Every few seconds he would look over his shoulder or glance at his watch.

"It's getting very late," he murmured after handing Elizabeta her bag, which was strange because, while there were hints of pink and gold in the sky, it was mostly still a clear blue.

When it came time for him to go, the driver surprised them by refusing to accept their money.

"It wouldn't be right," was all he said before he got back into the taxi. Elizabeta and Gilbert could only watch in confusion as the taxi sped down the street.

"I know I'm supposed to be happy right now, but really, what the fuck was that?" Gilbert said.

Elizabeta frowned. "What's one thing you haven't noticed since we got here?"

"Quality clothing stores."

"People, Gilbert!"

"What? I saw like two people."

"Yeah, _only_ two people. It's barely past six, 22 ºC, clear skies, and there are only two people out."

"What's your point?"

"There's something off about this place. I've just got this really weird feeling. Maybe coming here wasn't the best idea."

"Chill out, Liz. You're being paranoid. It looks like a normal English village to me. Maybe everyone's taking a nap or something. I know I could use one. Come on, let's go check in."

Elizabeta glanced down the street the taxi had gone. Was it just her imagination or were the shadows getting longer? Already, the rosebushes on the curb seemed to be losing their color.

"If you say so," she muttered.

She bent down to pick up one of her bags and shivered as a gust of wind swept past her. A pathway paved with white stones that was lined on both sides with red and pink rosebushes led from the road up to the hotel. The pathway split in two a few feet from the front door. One path continued to the front door, the other curved around the building and disappeared from sight. Elizabeta quashed the urge to see where it went and followed Gilbert inside the hotel. The inside had been designed in the same storybook manner as the outside. Winding staircases, hand carved figurines atop the hearth, polished wooden floors…Elizabeta felt like Little Red-Riding Hood stepping into her grandmother's cottage. She couldn't help but wonder if somewhere, perhaps lurking in a dark corner, waiting and watching, was the Wolf.

There was no one at the front desk and it wasn't until they had rung the bell twice that a middle-aged woman shuffled into the lobby. She had a tangle of salt and pepper colored hair that fell to her shoulders and wore a pair of baggy overalls covered in paint stains. She blinked in surprise at them and pushed her thick-rimmed glasses up her nose.

"Can I help you?" she asked, looking thoroughly confused.

Elizabeta put on her best smile. "Hello, I'm Elizabeta and this is my friend, Gilbert. We'd like to book a room, please."

If anything, the woman looked even more confused.

"Y-You want to…check in?" she asked.

"Yes? We were planning on staying for about two weeks, if that's alright?"

The woman blinked again. "Oh…oh!" She ran a hand through her hair. "Oh, my. Yes, okay, let me see." She patted the pockets of her overalls. "Let me see. Darcy! Where has that girl gone now? Darcy! Oh, my."

The woman hurried behind the desk and began to rifle through the drawers while muttering to herself.

"Guests! Oh, my! I never imagined…guests! No, I don't want this, what is this doing here? Darcy! Where is that girl? I bet she's locked herself in her room again. Probably listening to that horrid music. _Teenagers._ No, no! Where are those papers? Maybe it's time to get a computer up here…" The woman suddenly glanced up. "I'm Agatha, by the way. Agatha Austen."

"It's nice to meet you Ms—"

"Mrs."

"Excuse me. Mrs. Austen."

A girl who looked to be in her late teens poked her head into the room. "Mum, did you call?"

Agatha looked up and pushed her glasses up again. "Yes, I did. Where have you been? We have guests!"

The girl glanced at Elizabeta and Gilbert. She had a round face, long, curly black hair and light brown eyes.

"Seriously? You're actually checking in?" She laughed. "Are you both mental?"

"Darcy!"

"Did you tell them, Mum?"

"Well, I assumed they knew."

"Tell us what?" Elizabeta asked.

The girl, Darcy, and her mother exchanged looks. Then Darcy sighed and reached behind the front desk. She pulled out a newspaper and handed it to Elizabeta. It was an issue of the "Rosebury Weekly", dated just two days earlier. Elizabeta didn't even have to ask what she was supposed to be looking at.

"_SEARCH FOR KILLER INTENSIFIES"_

The headline was written in big bold letters. With a sinking stomach, Elizabeta began to read the article.

"_With the discovery of a third body on Friday, local authorities have stepped up their search for the serial killer that has transformed this once peaceful town into a place of fear and suspicion. It has been three weeks since the body of Irving Adler, 12, was found floating in Petal Pond. Along with being severely beaten, Adler was sexually assaulted and both his hands were removed. Barely a week later, Helen Hudson, 39, was found in the woods surrounding the pond. Like Adler, she was assaulted and her hands were removed. Authorities have yet to release the name of the third victim, whose body was discovered on the shore of the pond._

_In a statement yesterday, Chief Inspector Grimm assured citizens that the police are closing in on the killer, but would not give any specifics. To aide in the investigation, the police have brought in London Detective Inspector Arthur Kirkland, 29. DI Kirkland has been hailed by many as one of the best detectives of our time. The young DI, who is scheduled to be knighted at the end of the month, first entered the spotlight last autumn when he discovered the location of—and virtually single-handily captured—the infamous Sebastian Anderson, who murdered nine women over the course of two years in the West End of London. Until Anderson's arrest, he had seemed uncatchable and had managed to stump and frustrate London police countless times. Since then, DI Kirkland has gone on to solve many now famous cases._

_Kirkland, who is known to be a very private person, was only a few months ago the center of a scandal involving multiple allegations of drunken disorder. No charges were filed and Kirkland has never commented on these incidents. The Detective Inspector has yet to release an official statement regarding his presence in Rosebury, but is expected to by the weekend…"_

The article continued with some testimonies by the victim's families but Elizabeta had read enough. She set the paper down and tried to decide whether it would be appropriate to have a panic attack right then and there or just grab her things and run out the door. First Palermo, and now this. It seemed she had a knack for visiting cities inhabited by psychotic killers.

"Well, this is just fucking perfect," Gilbert muttered, who had been reading over her shoulder. "We just can't seem to catch a break, can we, Liz? Please tell me you're not planning on sticking around this time."

"Definitely not." Elizabeta turned back to Agatha the front desk. "Do you have a number I could call for a taxi back to London?"

"Of course, but it's unlikely anyone will come out here at this time," the woman said.

"No cars or cabs come by here after six," Darcy piped up. "They're all too scared."

"S-Seriously?" Elizabeta spluttered. "But it's still light out!"

"Don't matter. Curfew's not 'til nine but you won't catch many people out after five. The police are trying to keep everything hush-hush so as not to start a panic but word gets out. About half of the town's already taken off. Normally, this place is packed full of tourists, but you're the first new people we've had since this whole mess started. "

It finally dawned on Elizabeta why the taxi driver had been acting so strange.

"Well, is there any place where we can rent a car?" she asked.

Darcy smirked. "Sure, if you want to walk two hours to get there."

"So, what you're saying is that we're stuck here," Gilbert said.

"At least for the night," Darcy replied.

"B-But there's no need to worry," her mother added. "You'll be fine as long as you're in by curfew. And we have police and volunteers monitoring all the streets after dark."

"Basically, chill out," Darcy said. "One night won't kill you. Oops." She covered her mouth with a hand. "Bad choice of words, sorry."

Gilbert looked at Elizabeta. He said nothing but she could tell by his expression that he was asking, "Well, what now, Liz?"

She chewed her bottom lip. With her current luck, it would only take one night for something terrible to happen. Still, she didn't seem to have any other option.

"We'll take the room," she said finally. "Just for one night."

After they had checked in, Darcy led them to their room. She lingered in the doorway, watching them settle in with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

"What brought you here in the first place?" she asked.

"A friend suggested it," Gilbert muttered. "I can't believe she didn't know what was happening."

"Well, the police don't like people talking about it. They're even keeping the story out of the big papers. They probably didn't want to scare tourists away. Can't say it worked. This place is more or less a ghost town now."

"Why are you and your mum still here?" Elizabeta asked.

"Cause of my dad. Mum didn't want to leave him."

"Why doesn't he want to leave?"

"Cause he's dead," Darcy said simply.

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

Darcy shrugged. "He's buried in the town graveyard. Mum doesn't even like going on holiday because she doesn't want to leave him here alone. She can be so silly sometimes."

"Is it scary for you, being here?"

"Not really. I can't imagine why anyone would want to kidnap me. I'm told I'm not very charming. And only a complete idiot would try to kidnap Mum. Sometimes, in the morning, she puts her trainers on the wrong feet and doesn't even notice until I say something. If she can go ten minutes without knocking something over it's a miracle. She'll put the kettle on and then forget about it for hours. I've lost track of how many times she's almost burned this place down." Darcy grinned. "I think we'll be okay. So, do you have any plans for tonight?"

Elizabeta laughed. "Considering that there's a serial killer running around, I was just planning on staying inside with the door locked."

Darcy pulled a rumpled flyer out of her pocket and handed it to Elizabeta. "Well, if you decide to actually have a bit of fun, you can go to this."

Elizabeta skimmed the flyer. "Speed dating? Is it that obvious I'm single?"

Darcy nodded at Gilbert. "You two are clearly not together. He's wearing Aubercy shoes."

Gilbert smirked. "Oh, she's good. I like her."

Elizabeta couldn't help but smile.

Darcy continued. "They do it every year, the speed dating. It's real popular among the tourists. They were going to cancel it but decided not to, for tradition's sake I guess. With everything that's going on we could use a bit of normal around here. It ends at 8:30, so you'll have plenty of time to get back before curfew. If there are more than five people there I'll be surprised. Still, better than hanging around here."

"Are you going?" Elizabeta asked.

"Can't." Darcy tapped the top of the flyer. "18 and up only. Maybe I'll see you there next year." She winked.

Elizabeta heard Gilbert snickering behind her and blushed. Luckily, she was spared from embarrassing herself.

"Darcy! Darcy, I need you! Come down now!"

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Christ, she's probably got her hand stuck in the garbage disposal again."

"Hurry!"

"On my way, Mum!"

Darcy paused at the door and turned back to Elizabeta. "Keep in mind what I said. People around here are so scared you can't even say hello without them thinking you're about to shove a knife in their back. Go on, have some fun and tell me about it when you get back."

"Darcy!"

"I said I'm coming Mum!" She gave Elizabeta a small smile. "If I can't go out, at least let me live a little through you. Don't let some crazy in a mask keep you in. Who's afraid of the big bad wolf? Not me."

When she was gone, Elizabeta turned to Gilbert.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I think the smartest thing for us to do would be to stay here." Gilbert grinned. "But just because it's the _smartest_ thing doesn't mean it's the best thing. As long as we're back by curfew, I don't see why we can't go and have a good time. And isn't the whole reason we're here in the first place so that you can find some poor fool to latch onto?"

Elizabeta glared at him. "Well, not in those exact words, but yes. I hardly think I'm going to find him at speed dating though, especially if there will only be five people there."

"You never know, Liz. Damn, you're such a pessimist sometimes."

"Realist. Not a pessimist. Anyway, what will you be doing there? I don't think they'll be, er, catering to your particular taste tonight."

"You know me, Liz. I'll be the one who chain smokes in the back and silently judges everyone."

Elizabeta laughed. "Good to know." Despite her worries, she was beginning to think that maybe one night wouldn't be so bad. And she had never done speed dating before. It would be fun to try something new.

An hour later she was certain that only one who would be having even the slightest bit of fun that night was Gilbert. He had done as he said he would and had found a chair in the back corner. However, he hadn't even lit his first cigarette when a tall, attractive man with dark brown hair had sat down next to him. They had been talking and laughing ever since. Every few minutes Elizabeta would turn to glare at them. Gilbert had ignored her. So far, her luck hadn't been too great. There were more people than she had expected but significantly more women than men. It was at least a two-to-one ratio. Even worse was everyone's behavior. They were all smiling, but the smiles were too big and too forced. The laughter was too loud. Everyone was terrified and doing a terrible job and hiding it. Even the lights in the room were too bright.

"It was nice meeting you, Elizabeth."

Elizabeta refocused her attention on the man in front of her. He was not unattractive and was one of the more pleasant people she had encountered that evening, but she had stopped listening to a word he said after he had mentioned for the fifth time how his mother always hates the girls he brings home.

"It's Elizabeta, actually. And it was nice meeting you too."

She gave a little wave as he left and then sighed in relief as a break was called. Her face was beginning to hurt from smiling so much. She glanced over at Gilbert and saw that he was still in deep conversation with his new friend. She was tempted to walk over but decided instead to walk around the building. The speed dating was being held in the ballroom of the town's recreation center. It was a pretty building with long winding hallways that made Elizabeta think she would get lost if she walked too far. She slipped quietly out of the ballroom and began walking towards what she believed was the back of the building. One of her speed dates had told her that at the back of the recreation center was Rosebury's most famous garden. It had roses of every color, as well as other rare plants, and was something that everyone should see before they left. Elizabeta hoped she could find it and make it back to the ballroom before the end of the break.

She turned to go down a hallway when she felt a slight breeze from behind her. She searched for an open window or door but there was nothing to explain the draft.

"Strange," she muttered before continuing down the hallway.

She paused when she came to a point where the hallway split three ways and tried to remember the direction her date had given her. Another small breeze drifted past her. It had come from the left and she went in that direction, thinking that perhaps someone had gone to see the garden and had left a door or window open. After a few minutes, she found the open door but it didn't lead to a garden. It led to a small enclosure that turned off into an alleyway. Elizabeta was surprised to find that it was raining outside. It was only 7:30 but the sky had become dark and stormy. The rain was coming down at a fast, steady pace and didn't look like it would be ending anytime soon. Walking back to the hotel was not going to be a fun experience.

She was trying to figure out how to close the door when she heard what sounded like a cry coming from the outside. She leaned out the door and squinted into the darkness. She wondered if an animal had got caught in the storm. It was hard to see anything in the rain. She heard the cry again and her heart skipped a beat because that time it had sounded less like an animal and more like…

"Hello?" she called. "Is anyone there?"

There was no reply and she shuddered as she felt a prickling sensation run down her back. She realized that the area where she was standing had suddenly become very cold. Her eyes widened as her breath formed white clouds. She started to move away from the door when she heard the cry again and was almost certain that she heard the words "help me".

Without thinking, she pushed open the door and stepped into the rain. She walked slowly towards the archway that led to the alley.

"Hello? Are you hurt?"

The archway curved slightly and Elizabeta froze when she came around the corner. At the entrance to the alley was a dark moving mass. It took her a few seconds to realize that it was in fact two people lying on the floor. The person on the bottom seemed to be struggling and they let out a choked sob. Over the sound of the rain, Elizabeta heard, "Please…no. Please."

Only half comprehending what she had come upon, Elizabeta looked around for something, anything, she could use as a weapon. There was a rotted piece of wood about 20 cm wide and a little less than a meter long lying near her feet and she picked it up. Slowly, she walked towards the two people. The one of top was attempting to restrain the one of the bottom and Elizabeta saw a flash of silver. She didn't hesitate. She swung the piece of wood. It made satisfying _crack _as it struck the side of the attacker's head. The attacker made a sound of surprise as they fell to the side. Elizabeta quickly knelt down by the person on the ground. It was a young woman around her age. She had been badly beaten and her clothes were torn and dirty. Her eyes fluttered open and Elizabeta could see that they were a clear blue.

"Help…me," the woman whispered.

"Don't worry, you're going to be alright," Elizabeta whispered quickly.

She heard a groan and saw that the attacker was getting to their feet. They wore a skiing mask over their face but they had the build of a man. Elizabeta stood up and tightened her grip on the piece of wood. She swung again and the man fell to his knees as the wood smashed into his head. The rain was starting to come down harder. Elizabeta was soaked to the bone but she felt nothing. All her attention was on the man in front of her. The man groaned and grabbed his head and then slumped further onto the ground. Elizabeta took a step toward's him and then screamed as the man suddenly lunged forward. He knocked her off her feet and her head struck the ground. She reached out for the piece of wood but her hands grasped air. When she tried to sit up, the man shoved her back down and crawled on top of her. She struck his face again and again but he didn't seem to feel the blows. She gasped as he grabbed her around the neck and then suddenly it was as if she was back in Palermo and everything around her was burning and the hands that grasped her neck belonged to Alessandro and there was murder in his eyes. For a second, her whole body went limp and that was all the time the man needed. She screamed as he lifted her up by her neck and then smashed her head back on the ground. Her vision went dark for a few seconds and she came to just as the man brought her head down on the cobble stones again. She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe, she could feel nothing but pain and suddenly it hit her that she was probably going to die. She was going to die in a wet alley in a small town in England with so many things unsaid and so many things she would never get to do.

Suddenly, the weight on her chest shifted and she heard the sound of someone screaming. She could make out the man's faint outline and saw that he was fighting someone off. She realized it was the woman whom she had tried to save. The woman was crying and screaming as she beat her fists against the man's back. The man swung out his arm and struck her so hard that Elizabeta heard the sound of something breaking. The woman fell to the ground without a sound. Elizabeta groaned and tried to move her head but even the slightest movement sent pain through her body. The man turned back to her again and grabbed her head with both hands. He lifted her up until their faces were only a breath apart. He had dark gray eyes and even in her befuddled state she could see that there was no anger in those eyes, but sorrow.

"Forgive me," he said. "I had no choice."

Elizabeta tried to speak but her mouth couldn't form the words. Her vision was growing dimmer and she found both terror and solace in the coming darkness. Then the man's head snapped up and he released her. Her head fell back against the ground but she was too far gone to feel anything anymore. She was faintly aware of the man climbing off her and the sound of footsteps coming towards her. Sometime later—it might have been seconds or hours or days—she realized someone was leaning over her. She couldn't focus on their face and she couldn't understand what they were saying. She had enough strength to mutter a word and then everything went black.

...

...

Elizabeta woke up alone. She was lying in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room with no memory as to how she got there. Her last memory was of dark winding hallways and the cold. She remembered being cold. Slowly, she sat up and winced as pain shot through her body. She reached up to touch her neck and was surprised to find that she was wearing a neck brace. Even more surprising were the bandages that were wrapped around her head.

"What happened?" she said aloud.

She jumped a little. Her voice was rough and harsh and she almost didn't recognize it.

She shakily stood up from the bed. She glanced down and was hardly surprised that she didn't recognize the clothes she was wearing. She looked around the room and tried to find anything that gave an indication as to where she was. It was a normal-sized room with dark blue walls and a white carpet floor. It was sparsely decorated. There was a crucifix hanging on one wall and there was a small desk on the other side of the room. Elizabeta walked over to the desk and pulled open one of the drawers. The inside was empty so she closed it and pulled open another one. This one had a few blank pieces of paper inside but that was it. She pulled open a third drawer and found inside a thin book with a worn leather cover. She picked it up and flipped it open. Inside, were sketches of various plants, some of which were familiar, others that she had never seen before. Next to each drawing were some notes that proved to be illegible due to bad penmanship and the wear of time. She heard the door open behind her and turned to see Gilbert walk in. He was pale and looked like he hadn't slept in a long time but his whole face split into a grin when he saw her.

"You're awake!"

He walked quickly over to her and pulled her into a hug. She winced as he slightly jostled the neck brace.

Gilbert pulled away and gave her a once over.

"Christ Liz, of all the stupid things to do. You gave me a fucking heart attack. I thought you were dead. Do you know what your dad—scratch that—do you know what your mum would have done to me if you died? I'll give you a hint. It starts with 'C' and end is '-astration'. But seriously, what were you thinking?"

"I don't know," she said, her voice startling both of them. "I don't remember. Gilbert, what happened? Where am I?"

Gilbert's jaw dropped. "You mean you don't remember _anything_?"

She frowned. "I remember going to that speed dating thing and then I remember…I remember that it was raining." Yes, she remembered the rain now. She had gone out into the rain. Why had she gone out into the rain? She had felt cold. It had been so cold.

"You don't remember being attacked?"

Elizabeta took a step back. "I was attacked? Who attacked me? Is that why I'm wearing this thing around my neck? Gilbert, I need you to explain everything that's going on, now."

"Perhaps, I can help."

They man that stepped into the room had sandy blond hair and bright green eyes that stood out despite the thick eyebrows above them. He wore a long dark jack and a long green scarf was draped over his shoulders.

"It's good to see you're awake, Miss. Hédeváry," he said and held out a hand. "Detective Inspector Arthur Kirkland."

Elizabeta hesitated before she shook the hand in front of her. "Elizabeta is fine. You're the one from the newspaper article. You're here because of the murders."

He smirked. "I'm here because I owed a friend a favor. If not for that, I would have been on holiday in the Canary Islands by now."

"Oh, well, uh, I'm sorry?"

Kirkland made a dismissing gesture. "The hotel room service would have been terrible anyway."

Elizabeta wasn't quite sure how to reply to that. "Oh, okay then. By the way, this is my friend, Gilbert."

"We've met," Gilbert said without a smile.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop as the two men glared at each other and Elizabeta wondered what had happened while she was out.

Kirkland broke the silence first. "Well, Elizabeta. I have a lot of questions for you so, if you would sit, we can begin."

Gilbert crossed his arms. "Now that she's awake, shouldn't the doctor see her first?"

"The doctor is out on an errand. He'll be back in about twenty minutes, which gives us at least some time to get started."

"How are you feeling, Liz?" Gilbert asked her.

"Honestly? Really confused. I would just like to know what's going on."

"Then let me shed some light on the current situation," Kirkland said.

He sat down on the chair by the desk and motioned that Elizabeta should sit down on the bed. She complied. Gilbert sat down next to her and resumed glaring at Kirkland, who ignored him.

"For the sake of time, let's skip all the legalities. They would only bore you." Kirkland fixed her with a green stare. "Two nights ago, you were found unconscious in an alleyway next to the town's recreation center. Along with bruising to your neck, you suffered moderate injuries to your head. You've been mostly unconscious ever since. At this time, we have reason to suspect that the man who attacked you is the same one who is responsible for the murders that have been occurring in this town for the past three weeks."

Elizabeta felt the blood drain from her face.

Kirkland continued. "Now, I want to know what you remember of the attack."

"I-I…very little, to be honest."

"That's fine. Any little detail will help, even if you think it's something stupid."

Elizabeta looked down at her hands. "I remember that it was raining. I went outside because…well, I don't remember why. I don't even remember why I was…wait, yes I do. I was looking for the garden and I got lost and there was a breeze and…" She shook her head and winced at the pain in her neck. "This all sounds ridiculous."

"Please, keep going."

"I'm sorry, but that's all I remember. Actually, I remember the cold. It was so cold and I…" She had gone outside and…the archway, there had been an archway, old and worn away so that the writing on it was unreadable. Twists and turns through the darkness as water fell from the ceiling in a steady _drip-drip-drip_ that matched the rhythmic pounding of her heart. Her breath came out in little white clouds and the cold was almost suffocating and she groped blindly in the dark and there was something at the end. But she didn't want to go that way. She wanted to turn back but her legs wouldn't listen and she walked to the beat of the _drip-drip-drip. _She walked to her death because she knew now that was what awaited her at the end of the tunnel. There was no proverbial light there but an unimaginable darkness that wrapped around her with cold, wet fingers and slowly snuffed out the life in her. She was going to the darkness and she couldn't stop and there was no one who could save her now.

"Liz! Breathe!"

Elizabeta gasped and sucked in a lungful of air. "W-What? What happened?"

Gilbert looked at her like she was crazy. "You zoned out and just stopped breathing!" He stood up from the bed. "Okay, enough questions. Let's get you back to the hotel. Clearly, you need more rest."

"We're not done here," Kirkland said firmly.

"Yes, we are. Let's go, Liz."

Kirkland got to his feet. "No, she stays."

Gilbert walked up to him until their faces were only inches apart.

"I know you think you're hot shit but just because some old lady is going to wave an old as balls sword over your head in few weeks and make you her knight of the round table or whatever doesn't make you worth a damn in my eyes."

"How _dare_ you speak of her Majesty like that!"

"I'll speak of whomever I want in whichever way I want. I will also do what I want. And right now, what I'm going to do is get my friend out of here and take her somewhere where she doesn't have to worry about crazies beating the shit out of her and annoying as fuck detectives."

"Keep it up Beilschmidt. You are two seconds away from a cold cell."

"I don't think you know who you're fucking dealing with."

"You think just because your family owns some fucking automobile company I won't lock your ass up?"

Gilbert held up his wrists. "Come on, I fucking dare you try."

"Stop it!" Elizabeta snapped. "Both of you." She rubbed her forehead. She had a headache and it was growing worse by the second. "Gilbert, sit down. I don't want to hear it. Just sit! Detective Inspector, I will answer your questions."

"You can just call me Arthur," he muttered.

The door opened and a man in police vest poked his head into the room.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but we just received news about the second victim," he said.

That caught Elizabeta's attention. "Second victim?"

"Along with you, there was another young woman found in the alley. Joan Doyle, age 23. She was in significantly worse condition than you. We had to have her air lifted to a hospital in London. She's been in critical condition ever since."

"She saved my life," Elizabeta blurted.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You remember this?"

"No, I just…I just know. I can't explain it, but I know she did."

"I see." Arthur's expression was unreadable. "Excuse me for a minute."

He and the other policeman left the room.

Gilbert turned to Elizabeta. "Let's get out of here, Liz. Right now. Let's just go home."

"There's nothing I would love more than to go home, but Gilbert, how can I leave without even knowing what happened?"

"What does it matter? It's probably better you don't remember anyway. Why would anyone want to remember something like that?"

Elizabeta sighed. "Maybe. Still, I should at least finish answering the Detect—Arthur's questions. I am technically a witness to a crime."

"You're not the only one. Let him go bother the other girl."

"I'm afraid that is impossible, Beilschmidt." They looked up to see Arthur step back into the room. He looked irritated and slammed the door behind him. "Joan Doyle died ten minutes ago."

Elizabeta felt something tighten in her chest and at first couldn't place the feeling, but then she realized it was guilt.

"This is just perfect, really," Arthur said viciously. "Just perfect. Fuck, I need a cigarette." He turned to Elizabeta. "Before you woke up I was telling your _friend_ that it was vital that you remain in Rosebury for the time being."

"And I told him he can go fuck himself," Gilbert commented.

Arthur's eyes flashed angrily. "Now, it's even more important that you stay here. You are the only witness we have left."

"B-But I don't remember anything!" Elizabeta protested.

"You will. I just spoke with the doctor. With the injuries you sustained, some memory loss is normal. Your memories should gradually return within the next few days. And those memories could be the key to closing this case and catching this man." Arthur knelt down in front of her and gave her a pleading look. "You said Miss. Doyle saved your life. If you won't stay for me, will you stay for her and the other victims?"

"Don't fall for this guilt trip bullshit, Liz," Gilbert snapped. "You don't owe anyone anything."

"But I do," she said. "If it wasn't for Joan, I would be dead. I owe it to her and the rest of the victims to make sure this man doesn't get away with what he's done. If I leave now, more people could die. I couldn't live with myself if I let that happen. I'll stay." She heard Gilbert groan next to her.

Arthur grinned. "Excellent. You've made the right decision, you know?"

"Yeah," Elizabeta said softly.

Arthur got back to his feet. "And there's no need to worry about your safety. I will have officers staying at your hotel and you will have someone guarding you whenever you go out."

"I'm not staying so a bunch of police officers can babysit me. I'm staying to help."

"Well, right now the best way you can help is by staying safe and doing your best to remember what happened."

Suddenly, the tune to "Amazing Grace" started playing. Arthur blushed and reached inside his coat pocket. He pulled out a mobile phone and frowned when he saw the number on the screen.

"I have to answer this," he said. "I will be back in a few minutes. I'll send the doctor in as well."

He hurried out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Elizabeta glanced at Gilbert. He had his arm crossed over his chest and was glaring at the wall.

"I'm sorry, Gilbert," she said. "But I can't leave yet."

"I know, because that just wouldn't be like you," he huffed. He turned to her and she didn't think she had ever seen him look so concerned. "Why do you always have to be the hero? You went to Palermo because you thought it was up to you to save Lovino. You stayed, even when you knew you were in danger, because you just had to make sure everything would 'be alright'. Now you want to do the same thing here. It's not up to you to save the day, Liz. You're not Superman."

She grinned. "Well, I've always like Wonder Woman more anyway."

"Elizabeta, I'm serious. What are you trying to prove by staying here? That you're tough? That you're not afraid to stand and fight?"

"I'm not trying to prove anything. I'm just trying to do what's right."

"And the right thing is possibly getting yourself killed because of a few people you've never met?"

"Yeah, I guess it is."

Gilbert sighed. "You are the craziest person I've ever known. I don't even know why I put up with you."

She slid closer to him. "Because I can make the best goulash in the world."

He laughed. "True. Very true."

"You'll stay, won't you Gilbert?"

He was silent for a few seconds and then finally said, "Of course, I will. Haven't I said this a million times? Without me, you are useless."

She laughed and rested her head on his shoulder. "Thank you. By the way, what did Arthur mean by 'mostly unconscious'?"

"Oh, well you did wake up a few times, but only for a few seconds. Once you started muttering but hell if I knew what you were saying. It was probably something crazy. But, I guess I should be used to that by now. Ouch! Okay, that was unnecessary!"

Aside from the memory loss, which the doctor assured her was temporary, and some bruising, Elizabeta was mostly recovered and deemed well enough to leave the small clinic. The doctor removed the bandages from her head. She still had a bit of a bump but it would go down in time. She was advised to keep the neck brace on at least for the next few days and take painkillers when needed. Along with Gilbert, she was accompanied back to Maison Coquelicot by Arthur as well as two other police officers. Both Agatha and Darcy were happy to see her. While Arthur discussed the new living arraignments with Agatha, Darcy pulled Elizabeta aside.

"Hey, I'm, uh, really sorry about what happened," Darcy said. "Like, really, _really_ sorry."

"It's okay. I'm fine, kind of. And it wasn't your fault."

Darcy wrung her hands nervously and bounced from foot to foot. "It is though. If I hadn't told you to go to that stupid speed dating thing this never would have happened."

"You can't blame yourself for that! I'm the one who decided to wander off alone like an idiot."

"Still, I feel like shit. So, uh, if there's anything I can do for you, just let me know."

Elizabeta smiled. "Thanks."

Darcy peeked out shyly through her long hair. "So, am I allowed to ask what happened? B-But if you don't want to talk about it I totally understand! Mum said you might have PTSD or something. Do you have PTSD?"

"I don't think so? Although, I'm not exactly sure what the symptoms for it are. As for what happened, I actually don't remember most of it."

"Whoa, like you have amnesia?"

"I guess. Fortunately or unfortunately, it's only temporary. The doctor said the memories should be back in a few days."

"Oh, cool. By the way, I like your new fashion accessory."

Darcy pointed to her neck and Elizabeta groaned.

"It's terrible, isn't it? I've only had it on for a few hours and I already hate it. It's so itchy. I'm taking it off as soon as I get back to my room."

"So, it looks like you guys will be sticking around for awhile."

Elizabeta's gaze flickered back to the front desk where Arthur was still talking to Agatha.

"Yeah, for now."

"Awesome, but what's with entourage?"

"They're my, uh, bodyguards. Well, at least two of them are. They'll be staying in the hotel and will be with me whenever I go out."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic about it all."

"I'm trying to think of a way to get rid of them."

Darcy grinned. "I might have a few ideas."

"Darcy!" Agatha called. "Can you show these nice officers to the their rooms? They'll be staying down the hall from Elizabeta and Gilbert."

Darcy made a face, but when she turned to face her mother she was smiling.

"Sure, Mum. Follow me folks. Please keep your hands and feet inside the car at all time."

The officers exchanged looks and then followed Darcy up the stairs.

Arthur walked over to Elizabeta. "Because I know it wasn't your original intention to stay more than one night, I've made it so that the police force will be covering the bill for you room and board."

"You didn't have to do that."

Arthur shrugged. "Well, I did. I have to head over to the station for a little bit but I'll be back in a few hours and maybe by then you will have remembered more of what happened."

"Maybe. What are you going to do at the station?"

Arthur looked a little surprised at her question. "Er, just review some of the case files. Probably, go through some of the evidence. I have some paperwork to do as well."

"Do you think I could come along?"

"No."

Elizabeta frowned. "Why not?"

"I already told you, the best way you can help is by staying here and remembering what happened."

"Maybe going through the evidence will help jog my memory or something."

"Somehow, I doubt that. You're not a detective, Elizabeta. You're a witness and your place is here." Arthur started towards the door. "Stay out of trouble," he called over his shoulder.

"We'll see about that," she muttered.

She caught Darcy as she was coming down the stairs.

"Hey, Darcy, is there a library or an internet café in town?" she asked.

Darcy smirked. "No internet café, but we've got a library. Doesn't have the best selection but it's a library."

"Does it have computers?"

"They're old as fuck and take about an hour to start up, but yeah."

"Perfect. How would—"

"Head down the road until you reach the crafts store. Take a left. Walk two blocks and then take a right. It's next to the post office. You can't miss it."

Elizabeta quickly repeated the directions to herself. "Okay, thanks. And, just so you know, I'm just speaking hypothetically here."

Darcy grinned wider. "Yes, of course. And hypothetically speaking, my mum is working in the dining room so, if you did want to sneak out, this would be the best time."

"Thanks for the hypothetical tip," Elizabeta said.

"Any time."

Elizabeta hurried back to her room, stopping on the way to tell the two officers that she would be taking a nap.

"The doctor gave me some sleeping pills so I'll probably be out for at least four or five hours. Maybe more."

Neither officer showed any sign of being suspicious and wished her a good sleep.

Gilbert was stretched out on his bed when she walked into their room.

"Get up," Elizabeta said after closing the door. She began undoing the straps on the neck brace.

Gilbert sat up. "What are you doing?"

"Getting dressed."

"Why are you getting dressed?"

"We have work to do."

Elizabeta winced as she dropped the neck brace onto her bed. She gingerly rubbed her neck and found that it was less sore than she had originally thought. Of course, that could always be because of the painkillers she had taken before leaving the clinic.

Gilbert was on his feet now. "Whoa, whoa whoa. Hold up. What type of work? And aren't you supposed to keep that on?"

"It's annoying to wear. Now, turn."

"Liz—"

"Turn."

Gilbert sighed and turned his back. Elizabeta threw off the clothes they had given her at the clinic and pulled on a short-sleeved green dress.

"You may look."

The expression on Gilbert's face when he turned back around was one of extreme annoyance.

"What did you mean by work?" he asked. "And what do you mean by _we_? Unlike you, Sleeping Beauty, I haven't been getting my eight hours these past few days."

Elizabeta riffled through her bag in search of the scarf Gilbert had bought her and a hat.

"If they think I'm just going to sit around here twiddling my thumbs they have another thing coming. We have some investigating to do."

"I-Investigating?" Gilbert spluttered. "Why the hell would we be investigating?"

"Um, because there's a serial killer running around? Or have you forgotten?"

"No, but I think you've forgotten that this place is full of police officers who are taking care of that. You're not a detective, Liz."

"I know that," she snapped.

"Then what do you think you're going to do?"

"I don't know! But I can't just stay here. I'm not…I'm not saying we should jump in the Mystery Machine and try to catch this guy by ourselves, but I would at least like to learn more about what's been going on."

Gilbert looked unconvinced. Elizabeta groaned and tossed her bag aside. Her headache from earlier that day was coming back.

"I just don't like being kept in the dark, alright?" She rubbed her neck. "Have you seen my scarf or my hat?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Your scarf is in your other bag. Your hat is in my bag. I assume this investigating isn't going to involve our friends down the hall?"

"No. I told them I was taking a nap, so hopefully that keeps them away for a few hours. That should be enough time to get to the library, do some reading, and get back here."

"How about getting past Agatha?"

"She's working in the dining hall. Darcy told me."

Elizabeta found the scarf and wound it around her neck.

"Is Darcy in on this too?"

"She might have hypothetically given me directions to the library."

Gilbert finally smiled. "That girl is like your mini-me."

Her hat was a little battered from being stuffed in Gilbert's bag but Elizabeta smoothed out the wrinkles the best she could and slipped it on. She quickly stuffed a pen and a few loose pieces of paper in her purse.

"So, you coming or not?"

Gilbert sighed. "I don't really have a choice, do I? Especially since every time I turn my back you seem to be getting into one mess or the other."

He started putting on his shoes and Elizabeta poked her head out the door to make sure the coast was clear.

"Shit," she said.

One of the officers was standing down the hall and it didn't look like she would be moving any time soon. However, at that moment, Darcy came skipping up the stairs. She tossed her long, dark hair and smiled widely.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello," the officer replied.

"So, you're part of the lot from London, right?"

"Yes."

"That's, like, really cool. I don't get to go to London much. I've never met a police officer from there before. The cops around here are really lame, you know? Like, besides this whole mess they don't see a lot of action. But you guys must get to see a lot of cool stuff."

"To be honest, I spend most of my time behind a desk. It's not a very glamorous life, at least not like the way it's portrayed on T.V."

Darcy moved a little so that the officer was facing her and her back was to Elizabeta.

"Really? Wow, that interesting. Still, I bet it's not all boring. Ever killed someone?"

"Uh, no."

"Oh. What's the coolest thing you've ever done? Sorry, if I'm coming off as nosy. I just don't get to meet many awesome people around here."

"It's fine," the officer said hesitantly. "There was a bit of a hostage situation a month back in south London."

"Oh my God, what happened?"

Darcy titled her head to the right. Elizabeta looked in that direction. At the end of the hall was what looked like a closet; it read "Storage" on the front. She looked back at Darcy, who nodded her head. The officer took it as a sign of enthusiasm and began going into greater detail about the man who had taken two women hostage at a dry cleaners because his shirt had shrunk by a fraction of a centimeter.

Elizabeta crept out the door and walked slowly towards the door at the end of the hall. Darcy was able to successfully keep the officer's attention focused on her and Elizabeta and Gilbert slipped unseen into the closet. It really was a storage closet but at the very back, behind the racks of linens, was another door that revealed a steep staircase that ended up leading to the laundry room.

"That's actually, pretty cool," Gilbert said as they walked to the lobby. "I wonder how many other secret passages this place has?"

"I'll be sure to ask Darcy when we get back."

There was no one at the front desk and the lobby was empty so they walked easily out the front doors.

It was nearly noon and there were more people outside than Elizabeta had seen since they had arrived in Rosebury. Everyone moved about quickly as if they had a very limited amount of time to get to where they needed to go. When two police officers walked by, Elizabeta kept her head down, partially out of guilt.

The small library had one floor and, except for an elderly librarian, was empty. At first, the librarian was suspicious when Elizabeta asked for all the local newspapers from the past three weeks, but when Elizabeta assured her she wasn't a reporter and was only a curious graduate student, the woman handed the papers over.

There were only two computers in the library and it almost half an hour before they could get one of them running. Elizabeta let Gilbert deal with the computer and turned her attention to the pile of newspapers in front of her. She found the article about the first murder and began reading. The headline was, "TRAGEDY STRIKES ROSEBURY." The article went on to describe how a local jogger had discovered a body floating in Petal Pond in the early morning hours. Despite the fact that the police had initially withheld the name, many had believed the body belonged to Irving Adler. Adler had been missing for almost four days, after failing to return from a friend's house. Friends and volunteers had been searching for him almost nonstop but he had vanished without a trace. It was unlikely that the body could belong to anyone else. Both Adler's disappearance and the discovery of the body had been a huge shock in a town where crime of any sort was virtually non-existent. The next article had been published the next day and confirmed that the body was indeed that of Adler's. The police were still withholding his manner of death, but an anonymous source had reported that Adler had been beaten and sexually assaulted. Three days later, it was reported that Adler's head had been shaven and his hands cut off. This had sent another shockwave of fear and disgust throughout the town. It was unthinkable that someone could do something so terrible in a town such as this. Suddenly, neighbors were pointing fingers at neighbors and people were phoning the tip line to report suspicious activity at all hours of the day. The town had been on the verge of a meltdown when another person had gone missing. This time it was Helen Hudson. The 39-year old single mother had gone to borrow cold medicine from a neighbor down the street around 23:30. It was her nine-year old son who had called the police the next morning to report that his mother had never come home. Suspicion and anger turned to fear. A curfew was established and people stopped leaving their homes. Hudson was found a week later by a volunteer, lying in a clearing in the woods around the pond. She was reported to be in even worse condition than Adler. People began leaving the town in waves. Tourists stayed away and the police grew more frustrated by the day by the lack of viable suspects. Two men had been taken in for questioning but both were released shortly after. As more rumors about the murders sprung up, the more tight-lipped the police became. People began blaming the failure of the investigation on the incompetence of the police. Finally, it was announced that a detective from London would be coming to help with the investigation. Initially, people were skeptical, but when it was discovered that it was Detective Inspector Arthur Kirkland, there was a largely positive response. The last newspaper article, written just that morning, along with giving the name of the third victim, Jim Baskerville, 52, reported that two more people had been attacked. Elizabeta cringed when she saw her name and then cringed again when the article stated that both victims were alive and recovering from their injuries. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she set down the paper.

"Learn anything good?" Gilbert asked.

"Yes and no. I—are you…are you _blogging_?"

"I haven't updated in forever. My people grow restless."

"No one reads your blog!"

"Says you. My visitor counter just hit 20,000."

"Those are probably all from you. Focus, Gilbert!"

"Fine, fine!" Gilbert closed the window. "So, where do we start?"

"A search engine, I suppose. Let's find out who these people are. What's the connection between them? Why were they chosen?"

"What makes you think they were chosen?"

Elizabeta shrugged. "Isn't that what serial killers do? Meticulously choose their victims?"

"You've been watching too much television."

"You think it was random?"

"Well, you've got a kid, a middle-aged woman, a third person whose name we don't know yet—"

"Jim Baskerville, age 52."

"Okay, him, the Doyle girl and, well, you. I don't know, but that doesn't seem very meticulous to me."

"I'm sure there's a connection, somehow. Look up Adler first, keywords: Irving Adler Rosebury, England."

It took about ten minutes for the page to load. There were only three results. The first two links were about the murders, but when Gilbert clicked on them, they were taken to error pages.

"Well, Darcy did say the police are trying to keep everything hush hush," Elizabeta said.

The third link was an article from a school paper, dated six months earlier. It featured the winners of the annual science fair. Irving Adler had won second place for his home-built telescope. He was quoted stating that he wanted to be the first man on Mars. His picture had been included. He had messy red hair and brown eyes. Freckles dusted his smiling face. Both Elizabeta and Gilbert stared silently at the picture for a few minutes.

"Well," Gilbert said finally, "this is just depressing. And we just started."

Elizabeta took the pen and a piece of paper out of her purse. "So, we've got Irving Adler, age 12, smart kid, likes science…it's not much but I guess it will do for now."

They searched Helen Hudson next. Like with Adler, the search results relating to the murders took them to error pages. That left them with two links.

Helen Hudson was listed as a member on the Rosebury's Women Poker Players Association website. Her team had competed in a tournament in London a few weeks earlier and come in fourth place. The next link took them to a forum for single mothers looking for parenting advice. Hudson had been very active in the online community and made multiple posts a day. Elizabeta wrote everything down.

They were surprised by the numerous search results they got when they looked up Jim Baskerville. None of them were pleasant.

"'Local Man Arrested in Domestic Dispute', 'Local Man Involved in Bar Fight', 'Baskerville Taken into Custody Again', 'Baskerville Domestic Abuse Charges Dropped'…wow, this guy was an asshole."

Elizabeta scowled at the computer screen. "Tell me about it."

"It makes sense why the wife didn't report him missing right away. If I were her, I would have thrown a party."

"I almost don't want to write him down, but I guess I have to. Okay, Joan Doyle next."

Joan Doyle was a fourth year student at the University of Lancaster, where she had been a member of a variety of clubs, and had even been in the process of starting her own club, the focus of which being Wicca.

"Well, I guess that just leaves you." Gilbert said after closing the browser window, "Elizabeta Hédeváry, age 25. Recent university graduate, best friend to the awesome me, kind of nag, stubborn, talks too much, and never listens to her wiser and much better looking best friend. Hobbies include learning new languages, writing, and throwing herself into as many dangerous situations as possible. Shall I go on?"

"No, I think you've said enough." Elizabeta rubbed her head. "Damn it! I wish I could remember something, anything!"

"Maybe he's going after people who remind him of his family."

"Explain."

"So you've got the Adler kid, right? That could be his annoying little brother, hell it could even be him. Like, he sees his past self in the kid. And then Hudson is obviously his mum, Baskerville the asshole dad, and then Doyle or you could be either the girlfriend who broke his heart or the annoying sister."

"Wow, you came up with all that by yourself?" Elizabeta said dryly.

"I'm more than just a pretty face."

"Well, it makes sense…kind of. I'll write it down." She quickly jotted down the ideas onto the piece of paper. "Except for me, all these people lived in Rosebury. It's a small town. They had to have all known each other, right?"

"Maybe, they were part of a secret underground cult. Doyle was into Wicca, maybe they were all witches."

"I liked your first idea better."

"Well, that's still two for me, zero for you."

Elizabeta tapped the pen against the table. "There could be a connection between Adler and Hudson. In the newspaper it said that Hudson's nine-year old son was the one that called the police to report his mother missing. Maybe he and Adler went to school together at one point?"

"How does that relate to the others?"

"Baskerville could have had children. Maybe they just weren't mentioned in those articles. Um, Doyle…we'll get back to her. Me…um…"

"If this is your way of telling me you've got kids, Liz, I will walk out that door right now."

She scowled. "I don't have kids."

"Thank goodness. Anyway, your idea sucks." Gilbert snapped his fingers. "I've got it! What if this guy just wants to kill everyone in town? That's why there's no connection between the victims. They just all had the misfortunate of being the first ones the guy took out."

"Now, that idea sucks."

"No, seriously. Let's say this guy was bullied as a kid—that's why he went after Adler first—and everyone in the town treated him like shit. So, now he's taking revenge. Or, or! Oh wow, this is good, this is gold! What if he had a little brother who drowned in the pond? And he blames everyone in the town for letting that happen. Perfect motive for revenge! It would also explain why he dumps all the bodies in that area."

"That sounds like the plot of bad horror movie."

"You're just jealous because I'm the one coming up with all the awesome ideas."

"Okay, let's shift gears. You can learn a lot about a killer from the way they kill their victims. In this case, all the victims—except me and Doyle—were supposedly strangled and their hands were cut off post-mortem. What's up with that?"

"Maybe he was born without hands and is searching for the perfect pair to sew onto his wrinkled stumps."

"Okay, ew. But, if he doesn't have hands, how did he strangle the victims?"

"With his legs, duh. You need to play more video games."

"It could be symbolic. Look up hand symbolism."

"Well, there are a lot of different opinions," Gilbert said after the pages had finally loaded. "This one site says hand symbolize balance, choice, contrast and justice. This other site says they symbolize faith, sincerity, justice, and strength."

"So, justice is a common denominator."

"I'm telling you, Liz, this is a man in searching for justice for his dead little brother."

"I refuse to believe that…at least not until we have more evidence."

"You know I'm right."

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "What about the head shaving?"

"On it." Gilbert typed the words into the search bar. "You know, he could have been born bald and—"

"Don't even say it."

They scanned the results the search had given them.

"He could be a religious nut," Gilbert said. "Some priests and monks have to shave their heads. And, according to this wiki, in Hinduism, hair is a symbolic offering to the gods, representing a real sacrifice of beauty. What the fuck? There are some things I can part with, but touch my hair and you are automatically eligible to get your ass kicked."

"Sacrifice…Hmm, that's—" Elizabeta caught sight of the clock at the bottom of the computer screen. "It's past four! Where did the time go?" She moved away from the computer and began to pack up the newspapers and notes. "We better head back to the hotel before my bodyguards decide to check up on me. Arthur is supposed to come around soon too. Somehow, I don't think he would be happy to find out I'm gone."

When they stepped back outside, the streets were once more virtually deserted, with only a few people hurrying around. All the stores they walked past were either already closed or in the process of closing down.

"Let's take the secret stairs again," Gilbert said when they arrived back the hotel.

"How about telling me where you've both been first?"

"Damn it," Elizabeta said under her breath.

Arthur was leaning against the front desk. His expression was a mixture of anger and annoyance and Elizabeta suddenly felt like a teenager who had been caught sneaking back into the house after curfew.

"I'll leave you two to talk," Gilbert said before taking off towards the laundry room.

Elizabeta glared at his retreating figure then turned to face Arthur.

"Well?" he asked. "Where were you?"

"I…decided to take a walk through town."

"By yourself?"

"I had Gilbert."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "There was a reason I assigned two officers to you. Right now, you are the only thing keeping this case from being a complete utter mess. If anything happens to you—"

"What was going to happen to me in broad daylight?"

"As a gentleman, I don't normally swear in front ladies, but listen when I say I don't fucking care what time of the day it is. Do not leave this hotel unless you're in the company of those officers. Got it?"

A nasty retort was on the tip of her tongue but Elizabeta held it back. Getting angry wasn't going to solve anything. Arthur could say anything he wanted, it wasn't going to stop her from getting the answers she wanted. So, instead of exploding, she gave him her best smile.

"Of course," she said. "I understand perfectly."

...

...

"I kind of hate that guy," Elizabeta hissed.

"At least we can agree on something," Gilbert murmured from his bed.

"And then he had the nerve to keep me downstairs for all that time. I was there almost three hours answering his questions. It doesn't help that I still don't remember anything." She sighed. "What do I do now, Gilbert? Those two down the hall are going to be monitoring my every move now. How am I supposed to get away?"

Her only answer was a soft snore. She looked over at Gilbert's bed and saw that he was fast asleep. Arthur had told her that Gilbert had barely left her bedside when she was unconscious. So, she let him sleep because, if anything, he deserved it.

It was almost eight and Elizabeta was completely awake. To keep busy she took out the notes she had taken at the library and continued to brainstorm the possible connection between the victims. When she glanced at the bedside clock some time later, she was surprised to find that it was past midnight. She looked back at the notes in front of her and sighed. Four hours and she still had nothing. What was giving her the most trouble was herself. If she took herself out the equation, everything made a little more sense. All the other victims were from Rosebury. That was the connection between them. So, where did she fit in?

Elizabeta sighed and stood up from the bed. She stretched and winced at the ache in her neck. She decided it would probably be best if she put the neck brace back on. She was walking past the window when something caught her eye. She pushed back the floral curtains and peered into the darkness. She could see in the distance the very edge of the woods that encircled the hotel. Thick fog wrapped around the trees, making the scene look even more eerie. She felt a familiar prickling sensation run down her neck. She felt as if there was something out there, something calling for her.

_She was standing in the doorway, looking out into the rain. There was someone out in the rain_.

Elizabeta blinked. She remembered that now. She had gone outside because she thought someone was in the rain. She smiled. She had remembered something. It didn't solve all her problems but it was a start.

* * *

The next afternoon she knocked on the door of her bodyguards. She had spent the morning brainstorming with Gilbert but then he had fallen back asleep after eating too much at breakfast. She had grown restless and decided to stretch her legs. The female officer opened the door. Elizabeta realized that she didn't even know either one of their names. The woman didn't look very happy to see her and Elizabeta guessed she and her partner had probably gotten a lengthy lecture from Arthur as well.

"I was thinking of going for a walk. Nothing too long. Just to get some fresh air."

"That's fine. We'll meet you in the lobby."

"Both of you? Is that really—" The woman gave her a look. "Okay, yeah, both of you. That's fine. See you in a bit."

There was no one at the front desk again and Elizabeta wondered where Darcy was. She was really starting to like the younger girl.

When the officers came downstairs, she was pleased to see that they were both dressed casually. It would have been mortifying to walk through the town with them dressed in full police regalia.

"Um, a question before we go," she said. "What are your names?"

"I'm Bennet and this is Collins," the female officer said.

"Okay, Officer Bennet and Officer Collins. Nice to formally meet you. Let's get going then."

Elizabeta had no specific destination in mind so she just picked a direction and started walking in it. As she walked, it hit her again just how pretty of town Rosebury was. Everything about it was clean and classic mixed with some romanticism. When this whole mess was over, Elizabeta thought she would like to come back for a proper holiday.

She ended up by the fountain with the statue of the woman in long robes. She searched her pockets but couldn't even find one coin.

"Looking to make some wishes?" said someone behind her.

She turned to see Darcy. In her hands she carried two large bags, which she set down on the ground.

Elizabeta smiled. "Hello, what are you up to?"

"Running errands for Mum. You? Have you gone and ditched the stiffs again?"

"Nope." Elizabeta gestured behind her where Collins and Bennet were pretending to flip through tour guides.

"Ah, I see. Well, at least they let you out."

"Yeah. Hey Darcy, who's this statue of?"

"How good is your Greek mythology?"

"Not very good, to be honest."

"No worries, I'm somewhat of an expert. That's Demeter, goddess of the harvest. Most think that's all to her. They don't know that she also presided over the sanctity of marriage,the sacred law, and the cycle of life and death. Her emblem is the poppy. One of her titles is even the poppy goddess. You know what poppies symbolize, right?"

Elizabeta nodded. Poppies had long been used as symbols of sleep, peace, and death.

"She's my favorite because, at first glance, she seems real nice, I mean, who doesn't love a good harvest? But when you look a bit closer, you realize that she's got a somewhat darker side. I don't think most people realize how just much she represents this place."

"Rosebury? How so?"

Darcy grinned. "In the mood for a story?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Cool. Help me with one of these bags. I'll tell you when we get back to the hotel."

After dropping the bags off with Agatha, Darcy took Elizabeta to the back of the hotel. Elizabeta gasped when she saw the huge field of poppies. It must have been at least a kilometer long. Maybe even more. It stretched all the way to the edge of the woods.

"Wow, I've never seen so many. That explains the name of the hotel."

They sat down among the flowers and Darcy launched into her tale.

"My mate Jane told it to me. Her great-grandmother told it to her. She swears on her life that it's true. It's the story of Selina Rochester. It was year 1925. Rosebury was an even smaller town than it is today. Maison Coquelicot hadn't even been built yet. The only thing on this hill was a tiny cottage. That's where Selina Rochester and her two girls moved into. Her husband had been killed in the Great War and Selina had been moving from place to place ever since, trying to find somewhere to settle down. Rosebury probably seemed like a dream come true. She was real pretty, that Selina. She had this long, bright red hair and these big blue eyes that made men forget what they were saying and made women awfully jealous. Her little girls looked just like her. Mary was 10 and Violet was 12. On Sundays, they always went to church dressed so pretty and nice and the girls always wore these blue ribbons in their hair. People were enchanted by Selina but they were also suspicious too. At the time, it wasn't normal for a woman to be on her own like that. Plenty of men asked her to marry them but Selina always said no. She said her husband had been her one true love and she would never marry again. This made a lot of people upset and they called her 'harlot' behind her back. Selina paid them no mind. All she cared about was her girls. She loved them more than anything in the world. The three of them had been living in Rosebury for almost a year when something terrible happened. One day, Mary didn't come home from school. They searched for days and days. They finally found the body floating in the pond." Darcy shook her head. "It was terrible what happened to that little girl. What was even worse was that everyone knew who did it. It was the mayor. He would always talk with Selina after church and he was always making some excuse to stop by her house. You would think he fancied Selina, but the way he looked at the girls…it just wasn't right. Some people even said they saw him taking Mary to his house. But no charges were ever pressed. Selina went to the police station every day for months but they always sent her away. Finally, one night, Selina took it upon herself to get justice for her little girl. She asked the minister and his family to take care of Violet. The minister tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen. She went over to the mayor's house that night and attacked him with a knife. She would have killed him too if his mistress hadn't been there and heard him screaming. Selina was arrested right away and thrown in jail. Shortly after this, a lot of bad things started happening in the town. Livestock started dying; a fire almost burnt down the general store. No one knew how it had started. One week is rained so hard that half the houses were flooded. The last straw was when all the roses suddenly died from a strange disease. The town erupted into chaos. A riot started and people stormed the jail. The police were powerless against such a crowd. The group found Selina in her cell and dragged her outside. They started beating her and tearing at her clothes, calling her a witch. Out of nowhere, Violet came running up and tried to protect her mother but, in the commotion, she was shot and killed. Selina went mad. She started cursing and screaming and, when the police finally got control of the crowd and tried to take her back inside the jail, she wouldn't let go of her daughter's body until they pulled her away. Selina died in jail a few years later, raving about her girls and swearing revenge."

Elizabeta was silent. Her heart was pounding in her chest and, despite the warmth of the afternoon, she felt chilled to the bone.

Darcy continued. "When Jane first told me the story I didn't believe her so she took me to the town's graveyard. Right in one of the corners, all by themselves are three graves. If you look close enough you can read the names. Selina Rochester, Violet Rochester, and Mary Rochester. They were real. I tried looking them up at the library but all I found was this teeny little article in the newspaper archives about Selina's arrest and Violet's death. It didn't even mention Mary or the riots. It wasn't right what this town did to them and then they went and covered everything up." Darcy sighed and plucked a poppy from the ground. "People come to Rosebury thinking it's this wonderland. They don't know about its bloody history. Hell, even people who have lived here their whole lives don't know. So, I guess in a way, everything that's happening now, we had it coming. We've had to coming for a long time."

Elizabeta thought of how she had felt the previous night when she looked out the window. It had been as if something was calling out to her and now she could have sworn she'd seen something in the fog. Or, in her state of exhaustion, had her mind just been playing tricks on her? Elizabeta turned her thoughts away from the supernatural. She didn't have time to start pondering the existence of ghosts.

"Darcy, do you know anything about the people who were killed? Did you know any of them?"

"Of course. I didn't know all of them very well, but I knew them. Everybody knows everybody in this place."

"Can you tell me about them?"

Darcy grinned. "Are you a detective now?"

"No, I'm just curious."

"Mmm, okay. I knew Baskerville the least out of all of them. I never spoke to him, I always just saw him on the street sometimes when I was coming home from school or running errands for Mum. He always had a mean look to him. I felt bad for his wife. She's this real small woman, kind of reminds me of a mouse. I knew Irving because sometimes he and his mates would sneak back here and play football. Mum always made me chase them off. I knew Ms. Hudson the best. I babysat for her a few times. I'm not a big fan of kids, but I always liked babysitting hers. Her son is the sweetest boy you will ever meet and her daughter is an angel. She even looks like one, with these gold curls and blue eyes. Ms. Hudson was always really nice and made sure there were plenty of snacks when I came over. She worked a lot and usually didn't get back until late. Even though she was really tired by then, she always told me jokes or stories she'd head at work and then walked me home…" A funny look crossed Darcy's face and for a second Elizabeta was afraid she might cry but then she resumed speaking. "Uh, I didn't know Joan very well, but I do know her boyfriend, Charles. He goes to a Uni in Scotland. Every summer he helps out at the hotel, even if it's just for a week." Pink spots appeared on Darcy's cheeks. "I fancied him for a bit. But then he started seeing Joan. She came around the hotel a few times. Nice enough I guess, but kind of quiet. She was always reading these strange books that Mum didn't like. I think Charles said once that she was trying to become a vegan. But yeah, that's about the extent of my knowledge. Look, if you really want to get some information, you need to talk to Molly Sowerby. She works down at the candy store. She knows everything about everyone."

Elizabeta glanced back up the hill where Bennet and Collins had been standing the whole time.

"I need to ditch them," she said.

"I have an idea. You can't see it from here and you definitely can't see it from where those two are, but at the bottom of this hill is a trail that winds around to the main road. Follow it until you get to the fountain. Take a left and the candy store will be the first building you see."

"How do I get down the—"

Darcy pushed her. Elizabeta gave a little gasp of surprise before she went tumbling down the hill. She landed ungracefully at the bottom.

"It's fine! It's fine!" she heard Darcy say. "We're just playing a game. She'll be back up in a second."

Elizabeta spotted the trail Darcy had mentioned and crawled towards it.

"There's no need to go down there. I said she'll be right up."

Elizabeta got to her feet and started running. She didn't stop until she reached the main road. She grinned when she turned around and saw no one was following her. She owed Darcy one. Bennet and Collins were probably going to hate her more than they already did, but right now she didn't really care about that.

She followed Darcy's directions and easily found the candy store. She walked inside and almost immediately her mouth began to water. There were shelves and shelves of everything from lollipops to multi-colored marshmallows. Lining the front counter were jars full of the biggest jawbreakers Elizabeta had ever seen in her life. For a few seconds she forgot was she was even doing there.

"Can I 'elp you'?"

A plump, middle-aged woman was leaning on the countertop. She had light brown hair pulled back into a loose bun and soft brown eyes. She had a kind, motherly look to her.

"Ah, yes. I was looking for Molly Sowerby."

"Tha' would be me. And Molly is just fine. What do you need?"

Elizabeta tugged on her hair nervously. "I was hoping I could ask you some questions."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "You one o' the detectives from London?"

"No, but I guess you could say that we have similar goals. My name is Elizabeta Hédeváry."

"Ah! I know you. You're the lass from the paper!"

Elizabeta winced. "Yes, that's me."

"Are you doin' much better?"

"Yes, thank you for asking."

"My heart broke when I heard 'bout Joan. She wa' a good girl. She wa' quiet an' had some strange ideas, but still, a good girl. She used t' come in here twice a week. I know only two people who like black licorice. She was one o' them." Molly sighed. "So, what kind o' questions do you have?"

"Well, I wanted to learn more about the other victims and Darcy told me—"

Molly chuckled. "Darcy! I should have known. Tha' girl is more trouble than she's worth. Ah, but I love her. Well, if it's Darcy who sent you then I'm 'appy t' answer some questions. What do you want t' know?"

"Can you tell me about the other victims?"

"You're goin' t' have t' be more specific than tha'. Otherwise, I'm goin' t' be talkin' for days."

"Uh, okay, you knew all the victims well, right?"

"You could say tha'. I didn't know Baskerville too well; he only came in here 'bout twice an' both times he didn't stay too long. Thank goodness because I never really liked the man. Lord forgive me for speakin' ill of the dead but it's true. When he came in here he spoke t' me in this real polite voice but I felt like he wa' talkin' down t' me an' he kept usin' words like 'missy' an' 'sweetie' an' it made me feel a bit ill." Molly shuddered. "But I did know Irving and Helen very well. Irving wa' in here all the time. He liked the toffees the best. His parents were always takin' him t' this dentist in London cause o' them. He wa' a sweet boy but if I didn't watch him close enough he would have eaten everythin' in this store. Still, there wa' an innocence t' him. Tha's not somethin' you see in many 12-year old boys. I wouldn't call me an' Helen friends, but we always had a bit o' a chat when she brought her kids in here. Life wasn't easy for tha' woman. Workin' two jobs an' havin' t' raise those little ones on her own. I don't know how she did it. She had a big heart though. Too big, I think."

"What do you mean?" Elizabeta asked.

Molly wagged a finger at her. "Despite what people say, I'm no gossip. I don't go sayin' thin's 'bout others t' anyone I please. So, I'll just say this an' there will be no more on the matter. Helen's biggest problem wasn't her jobs or her children. It was men. End of tha' discussion. I've already told you a bit 'bout Joan. Oh tha' girl. She goes off t' Uni as good a Catholic as any an' comes home with all these strange ideas 'bout witches and such. I don't even think her mum ever let her read the _Harry Potter_ books. So, where did this obsession with all this dark stuff come from? Tha's what 'appens when children go off on their own, I suppose. We always want them t' be like us but then they get their own lives an' their own ideas an' it breaks your heart a little but what can you do but love them?"

Molly took a handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed her eyes. "Terrible, absolutely terrible what 'appened t' all of them. None of them deserved t' go like tha'. Not even Baskerville, the bastard." She put the handkerchief back in her pocket just as the bell above the front door rang. "Ah, Detective Inspector, what brings you in here?"

Elizabeta froze.

"I was looking for something, but it seems I've found it," Arthur replied.

Elizabeta slowly turned to face him. If possible, he looked even angrier than before.

"Aha, hey Arthur! Fancy seeing you here..." His expression didn't change. "I can explain."

* * *

Arthur marched her back to the hotel. When they walked through the front doors, Agatha grabbed Darcy, who had been sweeping the floor, and hurried out of the lobby. A few seconds later there was the sound of a door slamming.

"You are really starting to piss me off, Hédeváry," Arthur said.

"Well, _Kirkland_, the feeling is mutual."

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"No, I'm trying to help you out! And don't give me any of that 'you're a witness, not a detective' bullshit."

"Do. Not. Test. Me. I can and I will have you escorted to London where you will be monitored 24 hours a day and where you will wait until I've finished the investigation here."

"Why are you so against me helping you out?"

"Because I don't need any help!"

"Okay then, Mr. Brilliant Detective, how far have you gotten on this case?"

"T-That's none of your business!"

"Really, because I think it is my business since this man almost _killed_ me."

"I'm not going to stand here arguing with you. I have work to do. And I swear, run off one more time, and you'll be on your way to London."

Arthur turned on his heel and strode out the door.

"Damn that man!" Elizabeta growled. "Damn him!"

When she got upstairs she was surprised to find that there had been some roommate changes while she was gone. Officer Bennet had taken Gilbert's bed and Gilbert had forgone sharing a room with Officer Collins and instead opted for a single room on the first floor.

"Sorry, Liz, but it was the only thing I could do to get Kirkland off my ass," he said when she confronted him. "Also, the fact that Bennet pulled out her gun at one point might have been a factor. That woman is kinda scary."

Elizabeta cursed Arthur again. To make matters worse, Darcy had been grounded for her role in Elizabeta's escape and, except for doing her chores, was forbidden to leave her room.

"I can't wait to see the look on Kirkland's face when I solve this case before he does!" Elizabeta said.

She was seated on the floor of Gilbert's new room jotting down everything she could remember from her conversation with Molly.

"What? What happened to just learning more about what's going on? I thought we weren't jumping in any mystery machines!"

"That was before. It's on now. He doesn't want my help? Well screw him, I'll do this on my own."

"Liz, I'm seriously starting to think you have an undiagnosed mental impairment. Do you even hear yourself sometimes? How do _you_ expect to solve this case when trained detectives can't even solve it?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. But I'll find a way! You should have more faith in me, Gilbert."

Gilbert muttered something she couldn't hear, but she was sure it had been in some way insulting. She ignored him and continued writing down notes. At midnight, Officer Bennet came into the room and told Elizabeta that she needed to come back upstairs.

"Seriously? I have a bedtime?"

"You can sleep whenever you want, but after midnight, Detective Inspector Kirkland has forbidden you from leaving your room."

The look on Bennet's face told her that there was no room for negotiations and that if she did argue, there would be blood spilt that night. Grumbling expletives, Elizabeta packed up her notes. She ignored Gilbert's snickering and slammed his door behind her.

"I'm, uh, sorry if you got yelled at because of me," Elizabeta said as she followed Bennet upstairs.

"I'm used to it," Bennet said stiffly.

"Is there a reason he's always so grumpy?" Elizabeta didn't think she needed to clarify who she was referring to.

"…He wasn't always like this."

"What changed him?"

"That's not my business and it's not yours either."

"Sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

"Sor—okay."

When they reached Elizabeta's room, Bennet went to take a shower.

"You better be here when I get back," she said before closing the door.

"Where would I even go?" Elizabeta muttered.

She went to the window. There was even more fog out that night. In fact, only the tops of the trees were visible. Again, she was gripped with the sensation that someone…or something was out there and she needed to find it. The feeling was even stronger this time and, before she knew what she was doing, she was heading out the door, pausing only to grab her red sweater from her bag. She took the secret stair again to avoid having to pass Collins' room. Thankfully, Agatha wasn't at the front desk. Unfortunately, the front doors were locked. Elizabeta went back to the laundry room, remembering having seen a window there. The window turned out to be little more than a narrow opening that required her to climb on top of the dryer to reach. Twice, she got stuck and had to wriggle around for a few minutes before she could free herself. It was a cool night and she slipped on her sweater as she headed for the trees. She paused at the edge of the woods and wondered what she was doing. Because of some feeling, she was walking alone into woods that were not only possibly haunted but probably also the home of a serial killer.

"Well, you know what they say," she said to herself as she stepped into the woods. "You only live once."

She wished she had brought a flashlight. There was no moon out and, except for the pale fog, it was pitch black. She could barely see her own hands in front of her. She didn't know which direction she was going. She only focused on putting one foot in front of the other. After what seemed like hours, the fog finally parted and Elizabeta found herself on the shore of what she guessed was Petal Pond. The dark water seemed to stretch on forever. She was suddenly aware how quiet it had become. She could hear no animals, not even an owl hooting in the distance. There was only the sound of water lapping against the shore. Then, out of nowhere, came a strong breeze that nearly knocked her off her feet. She flipped her hood over head as another breeze, only slightly calmer than the first, hit her. She was wondering where all the wind was coming from when she noticed that the temperature was dropping. By now, it was a familiar chill. She had felt cold that night too, before she had gone out into the rain.

_There had been a sound, like someone crying. Someone was out in the rain. She had followed the sound. She had walked through the archway to the entrance of the alley. There was something on the floor. It was a great and terrible beast. A quivering dark mass that would rise up and engulf her. No, no. That hadn't been it. It was no monster, but two people. Two people on the floor. Someone cried out for help._

_Crunch_.

Elizabeta stilled. That hadn't been a sound from a memory. It was the sound of someone walking towards her. And they were close.

_Crunch._

By then, it had become so cold that her breath was forming little white clouds and her fingertips were going numb. She wanted to move but she couldn't feel her legs.

_Crunch._

The wind was picking up again. It blew even more violently than before. It howled angrily in her ears and blew her hood off her head. At that moment, she heard a voice. She didn't know if it had been spoken aloud or if it had come from inside her own head as a last ditch effort by her subconscious, but she heard the message clearly.

_Run._

She didn't hesitate. She ran. She could hear the person behind her. She could hear their heavy breathing and the sound of their feet hitting the ground. She forced herself to run faster. Her chest was on fire and she could barely breathe but she didn't slow down. She didn't see the root sticking out of the ground. She screamed as she tripped over it and, instead of simply falling onto the ground, found herself tumbling down a steep hill. She landed in a pile of leaves and groaned at the pain that shot through her body. A light shined onto her face and she heard voices nearby. When she opened her eyes, she found herself staring down the barrel of a shotgun.

* * *

There was a spot on the ceiling. Elizabeta had been staring at it for over an hour. It was perfectly round and symmetrical. It couldn't have been put there on accident. It had probably been put there to make people go crazy after staring at it for hours, wondering how something could be so round and faultless.

"Where is she?"

Elizabeta sat up. She knew that voice.

"You mean Little Red? In the back."

"Okay, I'll handle it from here."

A few seconds later the door opened and in walked Arthur, followed by another police officer. Elizabeta got to her feet and gripped the bars of the cell. She had expected Arthur to be furious, but instead, he just looked worn-out.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry."

"Give me one reason I should let you out of there," Arthur said.

"I won't run away anymore, I promise. I'm tired of running."

He looked at her for a long time before finally gesturing to the police officer.

"Open it," he said.

The officer pulled a key out of his pocket and opened the door of the jail cell.

"Thank you," Elizabeta said.

...

...

Instead of taking her back to the hotel, Arthur took her to the flat where he was staying. The first thing she noticed when she walked inside was how neat it was. Even the papers on the desk were stacked in an orderly manner. The next thing she noticed was that the only real color in the room was a vase in the corner filled with wilted pink and red roses.

"I'll put the kettle on. You can go wash up."

Elizabeta was grateful for the opportunity to wash her face and clean up her appearance a little. There was a mug of tea waiting for her on the dining room table. It was Earl Grey and she forced herself to drink it. She jumped a little as a large folder fell in front of her.

"What's this?" she asked.

Arthur sat down across from her, his own mug in his hand. "It's what you asked for. Evidence and pictures from the crime scenes."

Elizabeta frowned. "You're just giving it to me?"

"No. That folder doesn't leave this room. If anyone were to find out I'm even showing you these files I would be in a shit ton of trouble."

"Then, why are you?"

"W-Well, cause you're a pain in my ass! Maybe now you'll settle down a bit and stop running headfirst into danger. I still can't believe you went into those woods by yourself. Thank goodness those volunteers found you when they did."

Elizabeta smiled. "You remind me a little of someone I know."

"It's not that friend of yours, is it?"

"Gilbert? No, this is…someone else."

"Oh, well I'm sure he's an upstanding man of the law then."

Elizabeta nearly spit out her tea. "Yes…of course. That's him alright. Uh, I guess I'll start going through this then." She flipped open the folder and nearly dropped her mug. Her surprise must have shown on her face because Arthur's mouth curved up.

"Shocking, isn't it?"

"I-I didn't expect…I didn't…It's not what I thought…" She set her mug on the table and took a deep a breath. "Yes, it's shocking." She glanced back at the picture in front of her and felt her stomach turn. "Is that…is that Irving Adler?"

"Yes. He was in the pond about eight hours before they found him."

The person in the picture looked almost nothing like the little boy she had seen smiling in the article about the science fair. His hair—that bright red hair—had been shaved off. And his face…his arms…Elizabeta set the picture face down on the table, unable to look at it any longer. The papers that had been underneath the picture were copies of coroner's reports, notes from interviews with family members and friends, copies of basic information like birth records and school reports. She barely skimmed them. She made a little noise when she saw the next photo. It was even worse than the first.

"His physical injuries aside, Adler was in very good health," Arthur said casually. "When we found him he was well-fed and even wearing new clothes. There was evidence to suggest that whoever had kidnapped him treated him very well. At least until they killed him, of course. Hudson on the other hand was in a terrible state. Her physical injuries were terrible and seem to have been obtained over a period of days. And there was also severe damage to her—w-well you can read it in that report there."

Elizabeta picked up the paper he was pointing to and then dropped it when she saw what he had been referring to.

"That's…horrible. It's vile and disgusting and…" She shuddered. She replaced all the pictures and documents back in the folder and closed it. She pushed it back towards Arthur. "I don't want to see anymore. I get it, okay? I'm no detective."

Looking satisfied, Arthur took back the folder.

Elizabeta noticed one of the pictures had fallen out of the folder and she picked it up expecting a gruesome image, but it was of girl around her age. She was very pretty. She had a heart-shaped face, short blond hair and blue eyes. Elizabeta frowned. She remembered those eyes. The memory was slipping in and out of place.

"This is Joan Doyle," she said.

She showed Arthur the picture but she didn't need him to confirm it. There was no one else it could be.

"Yes, lovely girl, wasn't she? It's a terrible shame what happened." Arthur took the picture from her and put it back in the folder.

"I tried to save her," Elizabeta said softly. "I remembered it just now. I…I tried to save her." A tear rolled down her cheek but she didn't wipe it away. "I remember all of it."

Arthur sat up straight in his chair.

Elizabeta sniffed. "I went outside because I heard a noise. At first, I thought it was an animal but then I realized that it sounded more like a person. So I went outside. I saw…I saw her, Joan. She was being attacked. She was on the ground crying and the guy was on top of her and I didn't think, I just acted. I picked up this piece of wood and hit him with it. He fell to the side and I remembering kneeling down next to Joan. She opened her eyes and looked right at me and I told her everything was going to be alright. I actually told her that." More tears trickled down her face. "The guy, he got back up and I hit him again. He fell down and I thought he would stay down but then he jumped at me. He knocked me off my feet and I dropped the piece of wood. Then he climbed on top of me and grabbed me around the neck. I still can feel his hands. He smashed my head against the ground and I blacked out for a bit. When I came to he did it again. I thought…I thought I was going to die. But then he just got up and ran away. I remember someone leaning over me and then I passed out." Elizabeta dropped her head into her hands and cried hard. "I remember it all."

She had spent the past few days angry and frustrated that she couldn't remember what happened and now she wished the memories had stayed locked away forever.

"Here."

Elizabeta looked up and saw Arthur holding out a box of tissues.

She took the box from him. "Thanks." She wiped her eyes. "You…you want to know a secret? Gilbert said something to me a few days ago, after I woke up in the clinic. He asked me why I always have to be the hero. Why do I always have to be the one to save the day? I told him that I don't want to be a hero; I just want to do the right thing. But that's not the real reason. The real is reason is that, if I'm the hero, if I'm the one who gets to save everyone, then I don't need anyone to save me. I don't have to be the one to ask for help. I never wanted to be like Cinderella, waiting around for some knight in shining armor to come and rescue me. I wanted to be the hero of my own story. But then, when I can't save someone, like I couldn't save Joan, it's like…it's like the worst pain imaginable." She started crying again. "And it hurts even more because I could have saved her. I could have!"

"No, you couldn't have. Joan Doyle suffered massive intracranial injuries. By the time she arrived at the hospital in London, she was just about brain dead."

"B-Because he hit her! She tried to save me and he hit her and I-I heard something break!"

"No, shut up and listen. The doctor tried to explain it to me but I'm not a medical professional so I'm not sure how much sense this is going to make. While Joan did suffer a major blow to her head, it wasn't that particular blow that killed her. It was the, uh, additive effects of the other intracranial injuries she obtained that eventually led to her brain shutting down. By the time you found her, she was already too far gone. Even if there had been a surgical team on site at that moment, I don't think she could have been saved. So, don't beat yourself up about it. That's just stupid. It wasn't your fault."

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?" Elizabeta snapped. "Because it's not. I still fucked up."

Arthur frowned. "People fuck up all the time. Just look at me. I'm supposed to be this amazing detective. Since last autumn, I have solved every case that's been given to be. That's 198 homicides, 90 kidnappings, 240 robberies, and one potential terrorist attack. I've cracked every code and solved every problem. Except one. It was the most important problem in my life and, at the time, I didn't even see it like that. And the solution was so simple too, but I was too blind…too arrogant to realize it. By the time I did, they were gone."

"Who?"

"T-That's not important. What's important is that, brilliant detective that I may be, I still messed up. And it haunted me for a long time. It still does. But then I realized something important. Not everything is deducible . Not everything is solvable. Not everyone can be saved. So stop fucking wallowing in your self-pity. And stop crying too. It's unbecoming."

She tried to scowl at him but ended up laughing. "You know, for an asshole, you're not half bad."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Elizabeta rubbed away the last of her tears and stood up from the table. "I should probably get back to the hotel. Gilbert will be having a meltdown by now."

"Yes, I should get back to work as well."

"Are you going to walk me back to the hotel?"

"No, why should I?"

Elizabeta gaped at him. "Weren't you the one freaking out the other day because I was walking around without bodyguards? Now you're going to let me go back alone?"

"I think today you've learned a valuable lesson: leave the police work to the police. And I trust that you won't go walking into the woods alone again. Officer Bennet and Officer Collins will continue to remain at Maison Coquelicot but they won't need to accompany you whenever you go out. This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Arthur shrugged. "I was getting tired of Bennet complaining about you anyway."

Elizabeta winced. "I guess I owe her an apology."

"Make it a good one. She doesn't forgive easily."

Arthur walked her to the front door.

"I'll be around later," he said. "I need to formally get your testimony about what happened that night."

Although she dreaded having to talk about it again, Elizabeta nodded.

"Can I ask you one last thing?" she asked.

"What?"

"Who were you talking about earlier? The one who got away? Was that some criminal or…?"

Arthur blushed. "No, it wasn't a criminal! A-And I told you, that's not important!"

"Come on, I told you my secret. It's only fair you tell me yours. Please?"

"It's really none of your business," Arthur huffed. "I'll just say this. There…there are some situations that you find yourself in…there are some people that you meet, that, at first you just can't stand, but then, when it's all over…when they go, you don't want them to. They might not be the most glamorous or amazing person you've ever meet, but you can't ever really forget about them. There's just something about them that stays with you."

"Wow, that's almost poetic."

Arthur turned a deeper shade of red. "S-Shut up! Get out of here, I have work to do!" he said before slamming the door.

"He's such a jerk," Elizabeta muttered.

It wasn't until she was halfway back to the hotel that she realized that she recognized those words. She remembered someone else describing a similar situation in the same manner. She was trying to remember exactly who it had been when she heard someone call her name. She looked up and saw a woman hurrying towards her.

"Are you Elizabeta?" the woman asked quickly. Her expression was that of worry and fear. "Elizabeta Hédeváry? The girl who was attacked?"

"Um, yes. How can I help you?"

The woman bit her lip. "I can't…I can't…You need to know something. But…I can't! Oh God."

"Is everything alright?"

The woman's eyes widened suddenly and she began moving away. "Oh God, oh God! I need to go. I'm sorry. This was a mistake. I need to go."

Before Elizabeta could stop her, she ran back down the street. Elizabeta looked over her shoulder, wondering what the woman had seen that had frightened her so much, but there was nothing there. She didn't know exactly what had just happened but decided she would tell Arthur about it when he came by the hotel later.

When she got back to Maison Coquelicot she was forced to endure angry sermons from both Gilbert and Officer Bennet. She lost track of the amount of time she had to apologize and for the rest of the day, both of them ignored her. The only one who would speak to her was Darcy, who had escaped from her room and was anxious and excited to hear about what it was like to spend a night in jail. Arthur called later that evening to say that he would be unable to stop by until the following afternoon. Elizabeta decided to save her news about her strange encounter that afternoon until then.

The next morning, Elizabeta woke up to someone knocking on her door. When she opened it, she found Agatha, looking extremely worried.

"I just got off the phone with the Detective Inspector. He wants you to come by his flat. He says it's urgent," she said.

Elizabeta got dressed quickly, wondering what she had done wrong this time. Unless she was sleep walking now, she hadn't left the hotel since the previous evening. On the way to Arthur's flat, she stopped by the flower shop and bought and mix of red and pink long-stemmed roses, thinking she might use them as a sort of peace offering. When Arthur opened his door she could tell by his face that whatever he had to tell her was bad.

"Hello," she said, trying to look cheerful. "I bought you flowers!"

Arthur stared at her. "Why in the world would you buy me flowers?"

"Because I'm sorry for whatever did…and, to be honest, this place could use a little color."

"You think I asked you over here because you did something wrong? Are you an idiot?"

She scowled at him. "Don't start calling me names! I bought you flowers! These weren't cheap either!"

Arthur pulled her inside the apartment and locked the door behind her.

"I asked you over here because there's been another murder."

Elizabeta almost dropped the roses in her hand.

"They found the body by the pond again. An officer called it in at 5 a.m. this morning. The victim was Mary Crewe, age 34." Arthur took a picture off the counter and showed it to Elizabeta.

She gasped and almost fell backwards.

"I know her! I know her!" Her heart was pounding in her chest. "She came up to me yesterday, after I left this place. She told me that there was something I needed to know but then she suddenly got scared and ran off."

"Why didn't you tell me this?" Arthur snapped.

"I was going to tell you when you came by the hotel this afternoon!" Elizabeta collapsed onto one of the dining room chairs. "I don't understand why she got so scared. There was no one around us."

"Well someone must have seen her approach you and they clearly didn't want her talking. Which explains why, when we found her body, her tongue had been cut out."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Elizabeta muttered.

"You better not be. We've got work to do."

"We?"

"Yes, _we_. You wanted to help out with this case. Congratulations, welcome to the team."

* * *

**a/n**: this was another chapter that got away from me. sorry about that.

just another little warning for you guys, next chapter things are going to get a whole lot worse before they get any better

-with love

dancer


	14. England: Day 78 - 84

**a/n:** This chapter took forever to write. Please enjoy!

**Warnings!:** violence, mentions of physical/sexual abuse, mentions of torture, mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts

* * *

_England:_

_Day 78 - 84_

Elizabeta had never seen water look so still. A light breeze brushed past her but Petal Pond didn't even stir. Ahead of her, Arthur paused as they reached the ring of caution tape that surrounded the area where Mary Crewe's body had been found. Two police officers stood in front of the tape.

"Good morning, Detective Inspector," said one of the officers. She gave Arthur a sad smile before lifting up the tape.

"I'm not sure 'good' is the most appropriate word to use," Arthur said as he passed underneath the tape.

Elizabeta made a motion to follow him but the other officer stepped in her way.

"Sorry," the officer said "this is a restricted area."

"It's okay, she's with me," Arthur said.

"I'm sorry, Detective Inspector, but we've been instructed to not even let the mayor into this crime scene."

Arthur sighed. "Look, I know you have your orders, but I need you to forget them for about…5 minutes."

"Sir, I can't—"

"You want this case to be solved and you want this bastard to be caught, right?"

"Of course, but—"

"Well, I'm the only one who can do that. But I can't do it without her. I don't have time to explain but I need her. So please, let her through."

The officer's exchanged looks.

"We…we don't want to get in any trouble," the woman muttered.

"You won't, I promise. And if you do, I'll take the blame. How's that?"

The officer standing in front of Elizabeta sighed. "Alright then." He lifted up the caution tape and Elizabeta slipped under it. "But only five minutes!"

"Thank you," Arthur said before strolling towards the edge of the pond.

Elizabeta hurried after him, mumbling a quick 'Thank you' over her shoulder.

"Where is everyone?" she asked. Except for the two officers, the area was deserted. "I expected, I don't know, a forensics team, reporters? There aren't even any gawkers!"

"Forensics was here this morning and reporters are completely banned from this area. As for civilians, do you really thing anyone in their right mind would be here of all places now?"

"I guess not…"

Even though the police had released no information about the murder, it seemed most of the townspeople were already aware of what had happened. On the way to the pond, Elizabeta had seen no less than half dozen cars leaving town. She wouldn't be surprised if everyone was gone by the evening. She wondered what Agatha and Darcy would do.

"So…about what happened back there. You _need_ me, huh?" She could barely keep the smile off her face.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Don't get smug. I only said that so they would let you pass. I need you as about much as a monkey needs a cellphone."

"Are you the monkey in that analogy?" Arthur scowled at her and Elizabeta grinned in response. "I'm sorry, you just set that up so well I couldn't resist."

"Well, then forgive me if I can't resist pushing you into the pond."

"Hey, there's no reason to get nasty! It was just a joke."

Arthur muttered something she couldn't hear and then turned to stare at the pond. If it was possible, the water looked even more eerie up close. It didn't even look like water. It looked more like glass and Elizabeta wasn't sure if she liked the reflection she saw.

"Why did you ask me to come along anyway?" She asked after an uncomfortably long silence.

"I told you earlier, you're part of the team now. You're on the case. Unofficially, of course."

"So what am I? Your sidekick?"

"No, sidekicks actually contribute something important from time to time."

"Can you not be a jerk for five seconds?"

"I'll consider it."

"You know what? I think I'm just going to head back to the hotel. Leaving Gilbert by himself is always a bad idea. He's probably burnt the place down by now."

Elizabeta shoved her hands into her pockets and started to leave.

"Tell me about your run-in with Miss Crewe again." Arthur said suddenly, giving no indication that he had heard her previous statement.

Elizabeta frowned and was tempted to just keep walking.

"Again?" she huffed. "I already told you everything."

"Perhaps you missed something the first time."

"I doubt it."

"Just do it. Humour me, please."

Elizabeta sighed and turned back to face Arthur. "Fine. I was walking back from your apartment when I heard someone calling my name. I look up and it was Miss Crewe…Mary, walking, no, running. She was running. She ran towards me."

"How did she look?"

"Scared. Really scared." Elizabeta remembered how wide Mary's eyes had been, but, strangely, couldn't even remember their color. "She was really pale too. She looked like she was running from something…or someone."

"And what did she say to you?"

"She asked me if I was the girl who had been attacked and I said yes. Then she said she had something to tell me. She said I needed to know something. But then she just freaked out and ran off. That's it."

"And there was no one else around?"

"No. There was no one."

"Then what caused her to run?"

"I don't know."

"She must have seen something."

Elizabeta shrugged. "What could she have seen? I already told you, we were alone. I even checked over my shoulder. There was nothing there. Just a few closed down shops."

"Okay, so a complete stranger runs up to you, scared out of her wits, claims to have crucial information, and then, for no reason at all, suddenly runs away. What's wrong with this story?"

"More like what isn't wrong."

"But how did she know?"

"How did she know what?"

"Where to find you. How did she know? Who knew you were at my flat?"

Elizabeta thought it over. "Well…no one. Unless they followed us from the station…"

"Not possible. If anyone was following us, I would have known."

Elizabeta rolled her eyes at the comment.

"Someone must have seen us walking together. It's a small town. Word travels fast. Mary could have heard from anyone," she said.

Arthur looked unconvinced. "And then there was the manner of her death. The extra brutality and the differences from the other murders.

Elizabeta shivered and tried not to remember the details Arthur had shared with her despite her protests.

Arthur continued. "It was as if whoever killed her had felt some deep betrayal."

"It was personal," Elizabeta said, the realization suddenly dawning on her.

"Yes," Arthur confirmed.

"So, do you think she was the killer's…partner? His accomplice? "

"It's possible, but I don't think so."

Elizabeta had to agree. She had read the short biography about Mary Crewe that Arthur had thrown together in less than ten minutes. She had been 34, unmarried, and, at the time, living alone. She had worked at a fabric store in town and part-time at the bakery. She had no family except a sister who lived in London. Besides two speeding tickets, she'd never had any trouble with the law. She was ordinary and, normally, that would have been at least a little suspicious, in Elizabeta's opinion anyway. After all, it was always the ones you least suspected that were guilty. However, there wasn't anything about Mary Crewe to indicate this. If possible, she was exceptionally ordinary. So now the question was what had she wanted to tell Elizabeta and how had she come by this information? Had she been unfortunately fortunate to overhear a secret conversation? Or perhaps she had seen something she wasn't supposed to. Maybe she was the killer's partner after all and had decided to confess. There were too many possible scenarios and just not enough evidence.

"I'm thinking of taking a little field trip," Arthur said.

"Where to?"

"London. I want to talk to the sister. No doubt she can tell us a little more about Miss Crewe."

"Does she know about Mary's murder?"

"Yes, she was contacted a few hours after the discovery of Miss Crewe's body."

"Then why isn't she here?"

"At the pond?"

Elizabeta groaned. "You know what I mean! Rosebury! Why hasn't she come to Rosebury? It's only about a two hour drive from London, isn't it? She should have been here by now."

"I hardly doubt we'll be seeing Miss Lavinia Crewe in Rosebury any time soon."

"Why do you say that?"

"Just a hunch." Arthur frowned at something behind Elizabeta. "Oh, it seems like our time is up."

Elizabeta turned to see one of the officers from earlier walking towards them. "Damn it."

"So, are you coming or not?" Arthur asked her.

"Where to?"

Arthur groaned. "Must I spell everything out for you? London. Are you coming with me to London?"

"You…you want me to come with you?" Elizabeta couldn't help smiling.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Hello? Do I have to say it a million times? We're a team now. Where I go, you go. Why is that so hard to comprehend?

"Okay, I get it. Enough with the sass. Of course I want to come. But before we leave can we stop by the hotel? I don't want Gilbert to worry."

"No, the last thing we want is for Beilschmidt to be upset," Arthur said dryly.

Except Gilbert wasn't at Maison Coquelicot.

"He left about an hour after you did," Darcy informed them. "He said he had work to do."

Elizabeta frowned. "Did he specify what type of work?"

Darcy shook her head. "Nope. I even asked. He said it was a secret."

"I don't like the sound of that. Darcy can I use the phone? I'm going to ring him."

She called Gilbert three times before setting the phone aside.

"Something's wrong," she said.

"He's fine," Arthur assured her. "It's broad daylight. There are still people in the streets."

"Then why isn't he picking up his phone?"

"Perhaps he doesn't want to be disturbed while conducting his 'work'. He's your friend, what do you think he might be up to?"

"I…I don't know. He doesn't know anyone here and it's not exactly a shopper's paradise. What if something happened to him?"

Arthur looked annoyed. "Nothing has happened to him. He's a grown man, Elizabeta. He doesn't need you checking up on him. But, if it makes you feel better, I'll have Collins and Bennet keep an eye out for him. Happy?"

"Not really," Elizabeta admitted.

She knew she was being paranoid, but now that she remembered what had happened to her, she couldn't help but feel that there was danger lurking around every corner. Still, Gilbert was more than capable of taking care of himself and had beat up men much bigger than himself before. Anyone who tried to attack him would find themselves dealing with more than they bargained for.

"If you want to stay, you can stay," Arthur said. "But I'm leaving now."

He headed for the doors.

"Wait!" Elizabeta called after him. "I'm coming with you." She turned to Darcy. "The second Gilbert gets back—"

"—I'll have C&B phone Detective Inspector Eyebrows," Darcy finished. "Don't worry about a thing. And I'm sure Gilbert is fine."

"Thanks and I hope so."

...

...

They arrived in London late in the afternoon and Elizabeta hoped they would be able to make it back to Rosebury before curfew.

Mary Crewe's sister lived in an expensive looking apartment building in West London.

"Don't say a word. Let me do the talking," was the only thing Arthur said when they arrived.

It wasn't until Arthur showed his badge that the doorman finally let them inside. Mary's sister lived on the top floor in the penthouse suite. After spending so much time with Gilbert, Elizabeta knew the difference between those who were simply wealthy and those who were wealthy in the sense that they wouldn't notice if fifty grand vanished from their bank account. Lavinia Crewe was definitely the latter. They were admitted into the suite by a maid, but not before Arthur had to show his badge once more. They were then led into a finely furnished room where they were joined a few minutes later by elegant looking woman with bright red hair.

"Hello, I'm Lavinia Crewe," she said.

There was little resemblance between her and her sister. Mary had been somewhat plain, and while she not exactly beautiful, there was something about Lavinia that made you want to keep looking. Her hair was neatly pinned up. She was dressed in a long purple wrap dress that covered her feet. She carried a bulging black leather purse and perched on her head were gray designer sunglasses. She didn't seem at all like someone whose sister had been brutally murdered earlier that day. Except for the bandages on her hand and the slight puffiness around her eyes, she was very well put together.

Arthur took her outstretched hand. "Detective Inspector Arthur Kirkland," he said. "I am very sorry for your loss."

"I'm quite aware of who you are, Mr Kirkland," Lavinia said with a smile. "As for my loss…well, Mary and I were never close."

"I see," Arthur said simply. "This is my associate, Elizabeth Watson."

Elizabeta hoped nothing in her face gave her away. She was definitely going to punch Arthur later. The least he could have done was warn her!

"Hello," she said, trying to sound like someone who was here for important business and failing terribly.

If Lavinia noticed anything strange about her behavior, she didn't say it aloud. She shook Elizabeta's hand and then indicated that they should sit. The chairs in the room were too soft and Elizabeta struggled to keep from sinking into them. Arthur, of course, looked perfectly at ease.

"Can I get you anything? Tea? Wine?" Lavinia asked.

"We're fine," Arthur replied.

"Well then, what can I do for you Detective Inspector?"

"I just have a few questions about your sister for you to answer, if that's alright?"

Lavinia shrugged. "As long as you don't have too many. I have a photo shoot in twenty minutes."

"Okay. Well first, can you tell me if there's anyone who might wish to cause your sister harm?"

"I highly doubt it. Mary is, excuse me, _was_, always very shy. She never had many friends. I can't imagine her having enemies."

"When was the last time you spoke with your sister?"

"Let me think. Eight—no, nine years ago. Like I said, we weren't very close. Honestly, I'm impressed. I always thought Mary would die from falling down the stairs or eating her food too fast. Being murdered by a serial killer? That's actually interesting."

Elizabeta had already decided that she disliked Lavinia Crewe. Now she was sure she hated her. If Arthur felt the same, it didn't show. His face was completely unreadable.

"Did you hate your sister?" Elizabeta said before she could stop herself.

She kept her eyes on Lavinia, but could feel Arthur's glare.

"Mary was too boring to hate. I pitied her...somewhat. I mean, who would choose to waste their life in that…that wretched place? I left two days after I turned sixteen and I've never been back."

"Rough childhood?" Elizabeta asked.

Lavinia gave her a withering look. "You can't imagine. Living in that place was hell. And the people," she laughed, "I've seen £50 breast implants that look more real. Liars, every single one of them."

"Sounds like you really hated them all."

"Stop right there, little girl, I know what you're doing. Yes, I hated them all. No, I'm not sorry that any of them are dead. But I didn't kill anyone. Who has the time? I've spent the past month in Beijing taking pictures of spoiled brats the size of my pinky finger. I just got back yesterday. Call my editor if you don't believe me. Now, are we done here?"

"Is there anything else you can tell us about your sister?" Arthur asked.

Before Lavinia could answer, the maid came into the room accompanied by a woman. She looked to be in her mid to late thirties and was very pretty, with long blond hair and green eyes that widened when she saw Arthur and Elizabeta.

"Oh, Lavinia, I had no idea you had company," the woman said. "I would have phoned you but I just assumed—"

"It's fine, Sarah," Lavinia said, getting slowly to her feet. "This is Detective Inspector Arthur Kirkland and his associate Elizabeth Watson. They came to ask me some questions about Mary. Mr Kirkland, Miss Watson, this is Sarah St. John. She is also from Rosebury. She owns the bakery there."

Elizabeta stiffened and for a second was afraid her cover was blown. True, the newspapers in Rosebury hadn't included her picture when they had reported her attack, but that meant little in a place where even the most safely guarded secrets could be found out. Yet, there was no recognition on Sarah's face when she looked at Elizabeta, allowing her to slightly relax.

"We all grew up together," Sarah said sadly. "I didn't know Mary too well, but Lavinia is an old friend. When I heard what happened to her sister, I knew I had to come and see her. Just to make sure everything was alright."

"Well, I'm afraid to say that you've wasted your time. You know how little my sister meant to me," Lavinia said, visibly growing more irritated.

"Still, she was family," Sarah insisted.

Lavinia rolled her eyes. "What has family ever done for me?"

Sarah sighed. "Oh Lavi, you shouldn't talk like that."

Arthur spoke up. "Perhaps you can help us, Miss St. John. Do you know anyone who might have wished the late Miss Crewe harm?"

"Of course not. Mary was a good person. She was very quiet, but one of the nicest people I knew."

"I need a drink," Lavinia muttered before she strode out of the room.

"You must excuse her," Sarah said. "They might not have been close, but she did care about her sister. Lavi's never liked expressing too much emotion. She keeps everything locked up very tight. She might be more willing to talk if you come back in a few days."

"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind," Arthur said. "Will you be heading back to Rosebury tonight?"

Sarah shook her head. "No, I think I'll stay with Lavi." She checked her watch. "You two better hurry back though. It will be curfew in a few hours."

"If there is anything about Mary you remember that you think will help the investigation, please don't be afraid to come down to the station and ask for me. Even if it seems silly."

"I will."

Lavinia did not emerge from wherever she had gone so Sarah saw them out. Neither of them said a word until they were back inside the car.

"I thought I told you not to speak," Arthur said.

He sounded angry, but not as much as Elizabeta had anticipated.

"Sorry, I couldn't help it. She just made me so mad! Her sister gets killed and she doesn't seem to care at all! And I don't buy what Sarah said about her keeping her feelings locked up. No, I really don't think she cared at all."

Arthur sighed. "And this is exactly why you're not my sidekick."

"What are you talking about?" Elizabeta snapped.

"You need to pay more attention to your surroundings. I don't suppose you noticed the small bin in the corner of the room we were in?"

"No."

"Well if you had, you would have seen it was nearly overflowing with tissues, many of them smeared with what I assume was eye make-up. She kept trying to put on her make-up, to try and make herself look presentable, but she kept crying and ruining it. No doubt the other bins in the flat are in a similar state. You think she would have invested in the waterproof brand by now. Honestly, if that didn't give it away, I thought the puffiness around her eyes would have."

"How did you—"

"And her hands, you must have noticed the bandages on her hands."

"Of course I did—"

"But did you notice the mirror?"

"What mirror?"

"Exactly, there was no mirror. But there had been one in the hallway earlier that day because of the outline it left on the wall after they took it down."

"What does a mirror—"

"It was broken. They took it down because it was broken."

"And you know this because?"

"The shards."

"What shards?"

"The ones in the dustpan. When we first walked in, there was a dustpan full of glass shards off to the side. We arrived when the maid was cleaning up the last of the glass. She set the dustpan down so she could answer the door. It was gone by the time we left. Most likely she promptly disposed of the shards after showing us to the sitting room."

"I still don't understand. What does a broken mirror have to do with anything?"

Arthur sighed. "Honestly, this is all very elementary. Keep up. In her grief over the death of her sister, Lavinia Crewe broke the mirror. She cut her hands in the process and, thus, the bandages. She's a very good actress, I must give her that."

Elizabeta gaped at him. "How did you figure all that out?"

Arthur grinned. "I'm something of a genius. Haven't you realized that by now?"

"No, but I have realized that you seriously have ego problems."

"Why are you so rude? You're almost as bad as your friend."

Elizabeta ignored the comment. "If you're right, I don't understand how Lavinia kept it all in. If I had been that upset, I never would have able to keep it together so well."

"You might if your life was in danger."

"Explain."

"Her ankle; someone fractured it. Very recently as well. London has been blessed with very warm weather these past few days. It must have been at least 25ºC when we arrived. Yet Miss Crewe opted for a dress that covered both her arms and legs. Have you ever read "The Wisp"?"

"Nope."

"I didn't expect you to have. It's a magazine for people of a more refined taste…and with much more money than you. Lavinia Crewe is their primary photographer and occasionally writes articles for their world news section. I knew the name was familiar when I saw it listed in Mary Crewe's file. Anyway, at the end of every publication of "The Wisp" is a picture of the contributing staff. Usually it's taken outdoors in whatever city was featured in the magazine's travel section. Lavinia Crewe has been in every picture for the past five years and she never wears anything that goes past her calves. Ever. Earlier this year the city featured was Moscow. Miss Crewe wore a knee-length faux-fur lined skirt. The rest of her co-workers wore parkas and ski pants. The outfit she wore today was clearly for the purpose of hiding injuries. My hypothesis was confirmed by three events. The first was when she stood up to greet Miss St. John. It didn't last more than a second, but at that moment her face contracted in a manner indicating that the action caused her a great deal of pain. The second event was when she left the room. She had a slight limp, which truly could have been caused by anything as minor as a stubbed toe. It was the last event that made everything clear. She left her purse on the floor when she left the room. I can't even begin to guess what she keeps in there but, whatever it is, it kept her from completely closing her purse, allowing me to see the prescription for hydrocodone/paracetamol, commonly known as—"

"Vicodin," Elizabeta said. "Don't look at me like that. I had my wisdom teeth pulled a few years back. I was on that stuff for days."

"Then you know how strong it is."

"Oh, I know alright."

"Then, except for a major injury, why else would Miss. Crewe be carrying around a prescription for such strong medication?"

Elizabeta snorted. "Because pain meds are the new crack."

"Yes, I suppose she could be an addict, especially considering her lifestyle."

"But you don't think she is."

"What makes you say that?"

"You're making that face."

"What face?"

"The Elizabeta-said-something-and-I'm-about-to-prove-it-wrong face."

Arthur laughed. It was the first time she had heard him laugh.

"Perhaps there's hope for you yet," he said.

"So, how do you know she's not an addict? How do you even know someone hurt her? She might have fallen down the stairs."

"Ask me tomorrow. I'll tell you then."

"Why not now?"

"Because, at the end of the day, I'm still human and I can't figure out everything purely by observation. The internet is your friend, Elizabeta. Never forget that."

By then they had left London and were cruising on the motorway back towards Rosebury.

"I guess it wasn't a complete waste of a trip then," Elizabeta said.

"Not in the slightest. I learned more than I had hoped I would."

"Okay, let's say you're right and someone hurt Lavinia. What does that mean?"

"It means this case just got much more complicated."

"Care to expand on that statement?"

"Not at the moment. I dislike driving in the evening and talking to you ruins my concentration."

Elizabeta sighed and leaned back in her seat. She shot back up a second later.

"I almost forgot!"

She leaned over and punched Arthur in the arm.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"That Elizabeth Watson stunt! I felt like an idiot! Next time, warn me!"

"You just assaulted a law enforcement official! You could go to jail for that!"

"Stop whining and focus on the road."

Arthur rubbed his arm while muttering something in Spanish.

"You speak Spanish?" Elizabeta asked, both surprised and impressed. Interestingly, Arthur looked just as surprised, as if he hadn't meant to say anything.

"Just a little. Mostly just insults. I picked it up from…a friend."

"Is this the same friend—?"

"It's time to stop fucking talking!"

Elizabeta threw up her hands in frustration. "Fine! Fine! I get it, okay?" She crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat, determined to ignore Arthur for the rest of the drive.

"I was testing you, when I introduced you as Elizabeth Watson," Arthur said a few minutes later. Elizabeta firmly refused to look at him but he continued nonetheless. "Well, partially at least. I wanted to see if you could stay calm and composed when something completely unexpected was thrown at you…also I thought it would be amusing to see what sort of reaction I could elicit from you."

Elizabeta finally turned away from the window to look at him. He gave her a half-smile.

"You passed. Congratulations. Perhaps I should promote you to sidekick after all."

Elizabeta opened her mouth to speak but Arthur's phone chose that moment to start ringing.

"What now?" He pulled his phone out of his pocket and glared at the screen. "It's a text from Bennet. Your friend is back at the hotel." He tossed his phone into the backseat. "Waste of a bloody text."

Elizabeta felt relief wash over her. "Thank goodness."

She tried to think of what Gilbert could possibly have been doing all day. For him, 'work' could mean anything from rolling out of bed to hosting an orgy.

...

...

"I was doing research."

Elizabeta stared at Gilbert. "Research?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?"

"Because you doing research is like…like a monkey using a cellphone."

"Is that really the best you could do? You've been spending too much time with Kirkland. His super lameness is starting to rub off on you."

"Shut up. What kind of research were you doing?"

"Well, you know how we were trying to figure out how all the victims were related? I might just have an idea. Prepare your body. There are multiple ways to look at our problem. So, we have Adler, a son, Hudson, a mother, Baskerville, a father, and Doyle, a daughter. I'm not including Crewe right now, because from what you've told me, it doesn't seem like she was originally on our guy's list. But the others, it's like a perfect little family. Don't say anything, here's the next way to look at it. Add in some religion. The librarian gave me this huge book on world religions and ancient religions. It was fucking huge. I only got up to the C's so this analysis is incomplete. Most people know of the Holy Trinity: Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost/Spirit. Well there's also the Holy Family Trinity: Father, Mother, Child. Yes, it's a trinity and we have four "official" victims but hey, it's obvious this guy works in mysterious ways. Finally you can look at the victims as individuals in various 'life stages'. You've got the son, the father, the mother, and the maiden. It's actually inconclusive if Doyle was a legit 'maiden', if you know what I mean. Let's just assume she was. Anyway, there are a shit ton of ancient religions that deal with those type of figures. If our killer is some sort of religious nut, maybe he's taking out people that fall into those character types. So next he'd probably kill a crone or a blacksmith or something. At the end of the day, I see the main theme here as family. I don't know if it's his family or someone else's but it's definitely playing a role in his kills."

"Those were…interesting ideas," Elizabeta said.

"I swear to God, Liz, if you're being sarcastic—"

"I'm not! Honestly!"

"You better not be. I spent most of the day reading up all this crap. My back hurts now."

"I'm proud of you, Gilbert. I didn't expect you to get so serious about this case."

"What else am I supposed to do? We're stuck here until this guy is caught. Whatever I can do to make that happen sooner, I'll do it. So are you and Kirkland running off again together tomorrow?"

"No, he has to go back to London again for some meeting with his boss. He didn't seem exactly pleased about it."

He had looked furious actually. He had received the call right as he had been dropping Elizabeta off at Maison Coquelicot. After it had ended and he had explained the situation, he had advised Elizabeta to spend the next day researching at the library. Then he had muttered a prompt 'goodnight' before speeding off.

"So, what are your plans for tomorrow then?"

"Well, at first I thought we could just go to the library, but tomorrow is Joan Doyle's funeral. I thought…I thought maybe I should go."

Darcy had told her about the funeral when she had arrived back at the hotel. Initially, Elizabeta has been completely averse to going. Despite what Arthur had told her, she still felt an overwhelming amount of guilt regarding Joan's death. No doubt Joan's parents blamed her as well. Elizabeta didn't think she could bear an encounter with them. Darcy had urged her to attend nonetheless.

"Won't that be weird?" Gilbert asked.

"Probably, but I feel like I owe it to Joan to show up. Even if it's just to apologize to her parents."

"I guess that makes sense. Hey, what's the worst they can do?"

Elizabeta cringed. She really didn't want to find out.

However, in the end, all her anxiety was for nothing. Less than a minute after she entered the church the following morning, she found herself wrapped in the arms of Mrs. Doyle.

"Thank you. Because of you, I get to bury my daughter how I remember her. I get to bury her whole," Mrs. Doyle told her tearfully. "And not just what was left after…" She took a shaky breath.

Elizabeta felt a prickling behind her eyes but was determined not to cry. "Please, don't thank me. I didn't do anything. I couldn't save her. I can't begin to express how sorry I am."

"You have no reason to apologize," Mr. Doyle said. He was a small man with pale blue eyes that had dark bags underneath them. "No one told you to go out into the rain that night. Anyone else might have run away or called the police and who knows what would have happened to Joan by the time they got there? I…I know what happened to the others and, compared to them, my daughter's suffering was little. If it hadn't been for you, it could have been so much worse."

Elizabeta didn't cry then but when Charles, Joan's boyfriend, stepped forward during the service and revealed that he had planned to ask Joan to marry him in a few months, she couldn't stop a tear from sliding down her face.

"Never be afraid to tell someone that you love them," Charles said. "'Cause…cause you never know what will happen."

Following the service and the burial, a small gathering was held at the Doyle's house. No less than 40 people were there and Elizabeta was surprised that there was still that many people in town. Aside from Agatha and Darcy, the only other person she knew from Rosebury was Molly Sowerby, who only gave her a sad smile and a light pat on the arm when she walked past. A quick glance around the sitting room confirmed that Sarah St. John wasn't there and Elizabeta wondered if she was still in London with Lavinia.

"It's a shame Lavinia couldn't make it," Mrs. Doyle said sadly. She had been telling Elizabeta stories about Joan but had trailed off midway through explaining how Joan had been thinking of moving back home for a few months. Elizabeta couldn't help but be slightly startled when she spoke up again, about Lavinia Crewe no less.

"I know she would have been here if she could," Mrs. Doyle continued. "She was so very fond of Joan."

This caught Elizabeta's attention. "How did they know each other exactly?"

From the look on Mrs. Doyle's face it was clear that she had been merely thinking aloud and hadn't actually expected a response from Elizabeta. Nonetheless she replied, "Joan was an intern at "The Wisp" last summer. She loved every minute of it. She was becoming very serious about photography before she died. I think she saw Lavinia as a sort of older sister. They frequently exchanged emails." Mrs. Doyle sighed. "Poor Lavinia, I need to call her and tell her how sorry I am about Mary. I know they weren't close but she was still her sister."

Elizabeta barely noticed when Mrs. Doyle walked away. She was only thinking about what she was going to tell Arthur when he got back from London. Lavinia was now connected to two victims. Arthur had been right when he had said that the case had become more complicated. Elizabeta only hoped that he had found out more information about Lavinia.

* * *

She arrived at the police station early the next morning. She didn't even have a chance to tell the woman at the front desk why she was there before Arthur came around the corner.

"You're late," he said.

"It's 9 a.m.!" Elizabeta protested.

"I've been here since six."

"I'm sorry, but some of us need our eight hours."

"No excuses. Come on."

Elizabeta followed Arthur to the office he was using while stationed in Rosebury. It was messy and cramped and barely able to accommodate the two chairs and the desk that had been packed inside. Elizabeta squeezed into one of the chairs and Arthur sat down behind the desk. Along with three empty cups of what she assumed had been tea or coffee, and an empty carton of cigarettes, the desk was cluttered with papers and folders. Elizabeta spotted Irving Adler's case file and she had to suppress a shudder. She would never forget those pictures. On the floor next to the desk was a large stack of what Elizabeta guessed was every copy of 'The Wisp' that existed.

"So, how was London?" she asked lightly.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Small talk, really?"

"Well I didn't want to just jump right in. I was trying to be polite."

"We don't have time to be polite."

"Okay, well then, I have news."

"As do I but, please, ladies first."

Elizabeta took a deep breath. "Joan Doyle was an intern at "The Wisp" and knew Lavinia Crewe."

"I know," Arthur said simply.

Elizabeta felt all her excitement vanish. She had expected surprise and maybe some praise but Arthur just looked bored and slightly smug.

"You know? How? Since when?"

"The information was in Miss. Doyle's file but, until two days ago, I hadn't thought it was anything particularly important."

"And now?"

"And now…well first would you like to hear what I learned?" He looked so pleased with himself that Elizabeta almost said no.

"…Okay"

"First off, Lavinia Crewe lied when she said she hadn't seen her sister in nine years. She and her sister kept regular correspondence and met once a month for over seven years. _Only_ once a month and _never_ in Rosebury. Their meetings always took place in London. Their last meeting occurred shortly before Lavinia left for Beijing and was particularly strange because they had already met twice that month."

"I'm not surprised," Elizabeta huffed. "I knew there was something off about that woman. What were the meetings about?"

"I'm afraid the only one who can tell us that is Lavinia Crewe and she is unavailable until tomorrow evening. She conveniently had to fly to Rome for the day for "business"."

"When she gets back, we'll be waiting."

"Quite so. Now, as for the second bit of information I learned…I was right. Someone did fracture Lavinia's ankle."

For some reason this surprised Elizabeta. "How did you find out? I'm going to guess you didn't use exactly legal methods."

Arthur smirked. "Let's not talk about that right now. Anyway, three days ago Lavinia Crewe was treated for a critical fracture of her right ankle. She told the doctor that treated her that the injury was obtained during a hiking excursion while abroad. However, according to the flight attendant on the plane from Beijing, Miss Crewe, who wore shorts throughout the flight, looked perfectly fit, though strangely worried and distracted—don't interrupt I'm not done. If that isn't enough evidence for you, along with her ankle fracture, the doctor's report stated that Miss Crewe had severe bruising and multiple lacerations on her torso and legs. She's also right handed. You probably don't recall, but when we met her at her flat she shook with her left hand. No doubt this was because of the injuries on her right wrist. So, do you still think she fell down the stairs?"

Elizabeta frowned. "No. That's horrible." She couldn't believe that she was actually feeling sorry for Lavinia. "Do you have any idea about who might have hurt her?"

"I checked the visitor's log at Lavinia's apartment and on the day she received her injuries she was visited by someone with the initial J.M., who conveniently did not show up on any of the building's security camera. In the past five years only two of her coworkers at "The Wisp" have had the initials J.M. The first was Joseph Michaels, who retired two years ago. Michaels has spent the last eight years in a wheelchair after a car accident that left him paralyzed from the waist down. I believe he can be ruled out as a potential suspect. The second is Jacob Murat. Murat is a retired physical education instructor with a black belt in karate. Two years ago he was arrested after a violent confrontation with a man whom he claimed "purposely caused grievous harm to his vehicle". Despite the fact that the man he assaulted suffered multiple broken bones, Murat was never formally charged. He also has motive. Lavinia Crewe has filed two claims of workplace sexual harassment against him, the most recent claim being shortly before she left for Beijing."

"Perfect! It has to be him!"

"Not so fast, rookie. Murat writes for the sports section of "The Wisp" and is currently in Finland writing an article about wife carrying—don't ask—and has been so for the past two months."

Elizabeta groaned. "Of course it wouldn't be that easy. So, we have no idea who J.M. is? Could he be someone from Rosebury?"

"There is only one person in Rosebury with the initials J.M and they are six months old."

"Is it always this frustrating?"

"No, usually it's worse."

"So, we have no idea who J.M. is?"

"At this time, no. It's possible that those aren't even his real initials. Whatever the case, I have little doubt that he was the one that inflicted those injuries upon Lavinia." Arthur looked at Elizabeta. "Why would he do that?"

She frowned. "Are you asking _me_?"

"Well _I_ already know the answer to the question; I just want to make sure you're following along."

Elizabeta suddenly felt as if she had been put under a spotlight. "W-Well…if this J.M. is connected to Lavinia, um, he's probably connected with the murders somehow. He might even be the killer. That would mean he killed Mary because she was going to tell and then maybe hurt Lavinia for the same reason. I suppose he could have killed her too but maybe didn't because she's more important? I mean, if "The Wisp" is as popular as you claim, it would be stupid to kill her. It would draw too much attention. So I guess hurting her like that was the best he could do…why are you smiling like that? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, actually…actually that wasn't half bad. There's hope for you yet," Arthur said and Elizabeta beamed in reply. "In fact, I have little doubt that J.M. is the killer we are searching for. I daresay Lavinia Crewe is at the center of this whole mess. Her connection to two of the victims is hardly a coincidence and I'm sure we'll find similar connections between her and the other victims. Was she the killer's partner? No, I don't think so. But she's important to him, somehow…" Arthur stood up and began pacing the room. "Maybe it's not that he _can't_ kill her but that he doesn't _want_ to. He wants her to suffer and not just physically either. I mean, just look at how Mary was killed. He didn't have to kill her. Despite your claim that you were alone, he must have been present when Mary approached you and would have known that she told you nothing of import. So why kill her? Especially considering the risk, what with police and volunteers everywhere? You and I both acknowledged that the manner of Mary's death was personal. Now we know in what way. Our killer was aware of the secret meetings between the sisters and knew how devastating Mary's death would be to Lavinia. He most likely went after Miss. Doyle for this reason as well. For some reason or the other our killer wants to make Lavinia Crewe's life a living hell…" Arthur trailed off and stared blankly into space.

"She must have done something terrible to him," Elizabeta said quietly after a few seconds, still trying to process all the new information that had been thrown at her.

"…maybe. There are still pieces of the puzzle that don't fit. And not only that but we have an additional…concern." Arthur's face became grim. "You are aware of the reason I was in London yesterday?"

"Yeah, you had to talk to your boss."

"Yes, and during this meeting he informed me that if another murder occurs, or unless I solve this case by Friday, he's going to send in a larger task force and assign me to a different case. According to him, my skills are required for cases more crucial to "the general safety of the entire British public". That just means they're political."

Elizabeta's jaw dropped. "But he can't do that! You can't leave!"

Arthur smirked. "Afraid you'll miss me?"

"Don't joke around! I'm serious. There's no one else who can solve this case. And the victims; think of them! You have to stay for them. You owe—"

"I don't owe anyone anything," Arthur snapped. "And I don't disagree with my superior. My skills are better used elsewhere. The task force will do fine here. Obviously, it will take them much longer to have everything sorted out, but I've already given them a sizeable head start. There is nothing and no one here I have to stay for."

"Really? What about me?"

Arthur chuckled. "What about you?"

"I need you stay."

"And why would I stay for you?"

"Because I stayed for you," Elizabeta said angrily. "When I first woke up after I was attacked I wanted nothing more than to get out of this town. You have no idea what I've been through these past months and there was no way in hell I wanted a repeat. But I set aside my fears and I stayed. And I didn't just stay for Joan or Irving or Helen or Jim, I stayed for you too. So don't sit there and say that you don't owe anyone anything. You owe _me_. We're going to solve this case. _You're_ going to solve this case. Screw the task force. You're staying and that's the end of that!"

She took a deep breath. She was so angry that her hands were shaking. Arthur said nothing. He only stared at her until finally she had to look away.

"…okay then."

Elizabeta looked up to see Arthur standing by the door staring at her expectantly.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"_We_ are going to teach you how to shoot," Arthur replied. "Come on, get up."

"W-What? Where did this come from? You can't just change the subject like that! We have a case to solve!"

"Which we can't do until we talk to Lavinia Crewe tomorrow evening. Until then, we might as well use this time to teach you how to protect yourself."

"I can protect myself fine."

"Yes, you've made that very clear."

Elizabeta narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Arthur said before walking out of the office. "Are you going to stand there all day?"

Elizabeta sighed and followed after him.

…

...

"What if…what if J.M. isn't our killer and Lavinia's connection to both Mary and Joan is just a coincidence?"

"I hardly think so. Your shoulders are too tense. Relax."

"Yes, but have you considered the possibility of outside forces…supernatural forces?"

Elizabeta started to glance over her shoulder to see Arthur's reaction.

"Don't take your eyes off the target!" he snapped.

Elizabeta's head whipped back around. "Sorry! Sorry...but really, what do you think?"

"What sort of supernatural forces?"

"I don't know…an angry spirit?"

"You're saying our killer is a poltergeist? I said _relax._"

"N-No! It's just…never mind. It's stupid." Elizabeta had told no one, not even Gilbert, about the voice she had heard the night she went into the woods, mostly because, the more she thought about it, the more it seemed that it had just been her own subconscious yelling at her. Since that night she hadn't felt any unnaturally cold breezes or been hit with the urge go on another midnight stroll.

"Yes, it sounded stupid. Are you ready? Please don't faint."

"I'm not going to faint!" Elizabeta snapped. She moved her index finger to the trigger of the gun.

"SAFETY!"

"Damn it, Arthur! You almost made me drop this thing."

"Never forget to check the safety. It's the first thing I taught you. Have you been listening to anything I've said these past two hours?"

"Yes! And I was going to check it! Can you just stop yelling? You're going to make me shoot myself in the foot or something."

"If that happens then it's your own fault."

"Maybe I'll just shoot you in the foot," Elizabeta muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Okay, let's see here. Safety is on. The world as we know it is safe. Shouldn't I have headphones or at least something to protect my eyes?"

"Yes, but taking them from the station might have caused some unwanted suspicion."

"And you think taking _that_ didn't?" Elizabeta said, pointing to her "target", which happened to be a stuffed dummy Arthur had stolen from the police station. It was apparently used in some sort of training exercise, although she couldn't imagine for what purpose. The dummy hung sadly from a tree about 100 feet away.

"Stop complaining.

"I'm not—"

"Your stance is…not terrible," Arthur said, cutting her off. "Now, aim like I taught you and when you're ready, try firing off a round."

Elizabeta sighed and focused her attention on her target. She slowly closed her right eye and mentally ran through everything Arthur had told her about aligning her sight. Still maintaining her focus, she brought the gun up to bear on the target. She removed the safety and placed her finger into the trigger guard. Arthur had said something about breathing but at that moment she couldn't quite remember it so she took two deep breaths, squeezing the trigger halfway through the second breath. She heard a loud popping sound, which caused her heart to skip a beat. She opened her right eye and let out another deep breath while lowering the gun.

"Safety!"

"Fuck! Arthur, I swear, if you don't stop doing that I'll…I'll…"

"You'll what? Shoot me?"

"Yeah, maybe I will!"

"With your aim? I'd like to see you try."

Elizabeta examined the dummy. It was completely unscathed.

"That was horrible," Arthur said. "You didn't even graze it. Go again."

"Do I have to?'

"Yes."

It wasn't until the sun was starting to set that Arthur brought the impromptu shooting lessons to an end. By then, Elizabeta had only managed to hit the dummy twice, first on its shoulder and then on its left ear, at least where it's left ear would have been if it had ears. Arthur had been completely unhelpful, making sarcastic comments throughout.

"For your sake, let's hope you never have to fire a gun," Arthur said as he took the gun from Elizabeta.

"I couldn't agree more," she said. "So, what now?"

"Now? Now, I drive us back to Rosebury, drop you off at the hotel, and then go finish all the paperwork on my desk."

She gave him her best smile. "Or, you could take me to dinner."

Arthur blushed. "Are you…are you asking me out on a date?"

"W-What? No, no!" Elizabeta felt her cheeks heat up. "I just meant we could go out to dinner as team partners. That's all."

"Oh, well, in that case…no."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Okay, what if I _was_ asking you out on a date?"

"It would still be no." Arthur stuffed the dummy into a black duffel bag and threw it in the trunk of the car. "Actually, it would be more along the lines of not in a million years."

"Ouch. You really know how to let a girl down easy," Elizabeta said dryly. "Come on. It will be fun! Darcy told me about this nice place in Rosebury and I know for a fact that it's still open."

"Still no."

Arthur got into the car. Elizabeta hurried over to the passenger's side and climbed in.

"As far as I see it, you owe me. You dragged me out here, the middle of nowhere really, and made me shoot at a stolen dummy for almost five hours. I at least deserve dinner."

"I brought you out here to teach you how to protect yourself. If you found it an unpleasant experience it's your problem, not mine. And it's not enough to warrant me taking you to dinner."

"Okay, how about this? Take me to dinner and when we talk to Lavinia tomorrow I promise I won't say a word unless you tell me to."

Arthur looked thoughtful for a few seconds. "Not a word? You promise?" He asked finally.

"I promise."

"And you must follow my every order."

"Fine," Elizabeta grumbled.

"Okay, then." Arthur turned on the car engine. "No more than an hour though."

Elizabeta wanted to go back to the hotel and change but Arthur threatened to call the whole dinner off.

"You're mad if you think I'm going to wait thirty minutes for you to get ready, especially since this isn't even a date," he said in reply to her protests.

The restaurant Darcy had recommended was called Martha's River Rose, and, aside from an elderly couple, they were the only two customers.

"You still haven't asked me what I was doing in Rosebury, before the…incident," Elizabeta said after they had ordered.

Arthur shrugged. "It's none of my business."

"Would you like to know?"

"I'm sure you will tell me anyway, regardless of my answer, so you might as well go on."

"Well, I was…am…to be honest I don't know anymore. For the past three months I've been traveling around Europe looking for true love…or as close to it as possible."

Arthur snorted. "Are you serious? That's…well actually it makes a bit of sense. You're a romantic. And a hopeless one at that."

"Say whatever you want. I had just graduated from Uni and I just couldn't bear the thought of going through the rest of my life alone. Maybe that makes me sad and pathetic, but I don't care. That's how I felt."

"So, you came here, to Rosebury, to look for love? Of all the places in England? Here?"

Elizabeta shrugged. "Everywhere I've been until now has been a big city. I thought why not go to small town for a change? Which of course turned out to be a horrible decision. My problem now is that I don't know what to do next. No matter where I go, something seems to go wrong and I'm tired of being disappointed. It doesn't help that I'm more or less broke. At first I thought I would go back home and ask my parents for a loan, but now, after everything that has happened here, I'm starting to think: what's the point? They give me money and I keep traveling and keep getting my heart broken because I can't forget L—" She stopped herself before she went too far. "It was a dumb idea, I know. It was silly and childish and really badly planned, but as much as I want to stop, I can hardly bear to think about giving up because then it would have all been for nothing! So, yes…that…those are my problems."

"Are you asking me for advice?" Arthur asked.

Elizabeta picked at a hole in the tablecloth. "I don't know. I mostly just needed someone to talk at," she muttered. "But I might as well, what with you being this great detective and everything. I clearly can't solve my own problems but maybe you can."

"Unfortunately for you, I have no advice to give you. However, though I might not be able to properly_ advise_ you, I can _tell_ you that if you do decide to end this, uh, 'journey' of yours, it wouldn't have been all for nothing. Just because something ends badly doesn't mean everything that happened up until that point was meaningless. Trust me on that."

Elizabeta gave him a half-smile. "Thank you."

"No problem. This was a good effort, by the way. Bringing me here. Opening up like that, sharing your troubles with me. Getting us to connect on an emotional level. Yes, a very good effort, although I realized your intentions almost right away."

Elizabeta wasn't surprised that he had figured everything out. "Can't blame a girl for trying."

"Now, I suppose it's my turn to share my own personal woes."

"That was the plan."

"Was it all true? Everything you told me?"

"Yes."

"Well…in that case, you can ask me one question. Just one."

Elizabeta's expression brightened. "About anything?"

"About anything. And I promise I will answer"

"Did you love them?" She didn't think it was necessary to specify who she was referring to.

Arthur frowned. "…ask another question."

"But you said—"

"I lied. Now ask another question."

"Fine," Elizabeta huffed. "How did you meet?"

"That's an odd question."

"Just answer it."

"I backed a police car into his…what was he selling? Churros, I think they were churros. I backed a police car into his churro stand. It was an accident."

"What happened next?"

"He called me a bastard and threw a churro at my window. So I pulled the police car forward and then backed it into the stand again. Then I drove off. Also, that was two questions."

"You didn't have to answer the second one." Elizabeta sighed. "I owe Gilbert €10 now. He bet it would be a 'he', I bet 'she'. According to him you're so obviously gay it hurts."

Arthur actually laughed. "Well, he would wrong there. Normally when I look at people, I don't see them. I see things about them. I see pieces of a puzzle. I put the puzzle together, learn everything I possibly can about the person and then I move on. There's no emotional attachment; there's no connection. I've never really felt much attraction to or had a preference for either sex."

"So, churro stand guy, he was special?"

"God, no. He was an idiot."

"But he was your idiot."

Arthur made a face. "Don't start. I think it's time we moved on to a new subject, before I become ill. Where is our food? I'm starving."

Elizabeta only smiled and leaned back in her chair. Arthur was still a mystery to her, and she was doubtful that he would be willing to share any more personal details anytime soon, but she had learned more than she had hoped to learn about her 'partner'. That had to count for something.

* * *

Gilbert stretched loudly in his seat. A few people turned to look, but most, including the speaker, ignored him.

"I'm going to take a walk," he whispered. "If I sit here any longer, I won't be responsible for my actions."

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "I told you not to come. I knew you would just be bored."

"Well I didn't particularly feel like going to the library, _again_. And I thought you would be going on another adventure with Kirkland today."

"So you planned to tag along?"

"Exactly."

"Sorry to disappoint."

Elizabeta was supposed to have met up with Arthur early that morning but he had cancelled, claiming he had 'important thinking' to do and couldn't be bothered with her until later that afternoon and that she should go to library to do research. Feeling more than a little annoyed at being snubbed in such a manner, especially considering that their 'not-date' hadn't been a complete disaster, Elizabeta had been on her way to do exactly what Arthur had said—not because he had told her to, of course, but because she genuinely wanted to know more about Rosebury—when she had run into Darcy, who had also been on her way out the door. It turned out a town meeting was being held at the school. Among other things, the topics of a memorial service for the victims and an improvement of the local police force were to be discussed. Darcy was going in place of her mother, who was suffering from a mild cold, and more or less begged Elizabeta to go with her so that she wouldn't be so bored. Elizabeta had agreed, firstly because, despite what Darcy said, going to meeting sounded more interesting than spending an afternoon in the dusty library, and secondly it would give her an opportunity to question some of the townspeople. She didn't plan on asking anything too deep, she mostly just wanted to get a feel of the current atmosphere in the town. Darcy had rejoiced when she had agreed to come along. Gilbert had come down the stairs at that same moment and in the end the three of them had gone to the meeting. There were only twelve people in attendance, not including themselves, and no one looked particularly happy to be there. The man currently speaking had been going on for almost an hour about the need to improve the city plumbing and Elizabeta had been on the verge of nodding off when Gilbert had started to fuss. She was silently grateful for the interruption.

"Are you going back to the hotel afterwards?" she whispered.

"Maybe. I was actually thinking of getting a cab to London. I need to buy a few things and Vash keeps texting me something about 'securing his bank accounts'. The messages have been getting more threatening so I guess I should ring him to see what he wants."

The woman sitting in front of them turned around and put a finger to her lips, making a shushing sound. Gilbert made a face at her.

"Mind your own business," he snapped.

The woman flushed angrily and turned to face front.

"I hate nosy people," Gilbert muttered. "Anyway, I'll see you two later."

"Let me know if you really do want to go to London. Arthur and I are supposed to go later this evening. I suppose you can come, but you must promise to be on your best behavior."

Gilbert grinned. "I always am."

He stood up and strode out of the room, slamming the door loudly behind him. The meeting went on for another three hours. Elizabeta lasted almost two hours before she fell asleep and was jolted awake to the sound of chairs scraping against the floor and the feeling of Darcy patting her shoulder.

"What I miss?" Elizabeta murmured.

"I couldn't tell you," Darcy admitted. "I woke up only a few seconds before you did. Mum's probably going to ask a ton of questions about what went on though."

"I'm sure you'll think of something."

They stood up from their chairs. Darcy excused herself to go and talk to a family friend. Elizabeta surveyed the room. A few people had already left but most were still hanging around, talking in small, tight groups. Standing off to one side of the room was a short woman with curly black hair. She appeared to be by herself. Her face was lined with worry and her eyes swept over the people in room. They met Elizabeta's for half a second before flitting away. Elizabeta decided if she was going to start asking questions, this woman would be the perfect place to start. She had only taken two steps towards the woman before she heard someone call her name.

"Excuse me, are you Miss Hédeváry?"

She turned to see a middle-aged man dressed in the uniform of cleaner. In his hands he held a medium-sized picture frame.

"Yes, that's me. How can I help you?"

"Some guy paid me £50 to show this picture to you."

Elizabeta frowned. "What did he look like?"

"Uh, mid-twenties. Tall. Really light hair. Almost white I'd say. Strange colored eyes."

"Oh, I know who you're talking about." Elizabeta sighed and wondered what Gilbert was up to now. "Can I see the picture?"

"He said you would understand it when you saw it. I'm afraid I can't let you keep it though. I have to put it back as soon as you're done looking at it." The man handed the picture over.

Elizabeta's eyebrows shot up when she saw the two people in it.

"Why do you have a picture of Mary Crewe and Irving Adler at the science fair?" Darcy asked from behind her.

Elizabeta hadn't even noticed her walking over.

"I need to find Arthur."

...

...

Elizabeta had planned to find Gilbert and then they would both look for Arthur together. However, when she arrived at Maison Coquelicot, she knew everything had gone terribly wrong. The hotel was surrounded by police vehicles. Officers milled around the grounds and townspeople lined the sidewalks, their faces depicting a variety of emotions ranging from fearful to unsurprised.

"What's going on? Why are the cops here? What's happening? Where's mum?" Darcy asked frantically.

Elizabeta could hear the faint hysteria in her voice and despite the growing pain she felt in her chest, she took the younger girl's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Let's go find out."

Either the police officers recognized her and Darcy, or they were too busy to be concerned with them. Whatever the case, they weren't stopped as they hurried up the steps to the hotel. The first person Elizabeta saw when she walked inside was Arthur. She wondered why she had had so much difficulty reading him before. At that moment, his face was an open book. He didn't have to say a word. She knew what had happened. The pain in her chest grew worse and her breath started coming in rapid bursts.

"W-Where's my mum?" Darcy asked. There were tears in her eyes.

"She's fine. She's in the sitting room. She just had a little scare. At worst she'll have a few bruises. You can go see her."

Darcy ran off without another word.

"What…what happened?" Elizabeta choked out.

"Elizabeta, we need to talk," Arthur said softly.

"What fucking happened?" She was shouting now and her whole body was shaking. Police officers turned to stare but she was only focused on Arthur. "W-Where is he? Arthur, where is he? Oh God! Where is he? Please, tell me where he is. Please just…oh God!"

"Elizabeta, I really need you to come with me."

Arthur took a step towards her but she turned and ran towards the stairs. She heard Arthur calling after her but she didn't stop. An officer tried to block her way when she got to the first floor but she pushed past him. Her chest was on fire and her vision had become hazy and unfocused. A horrible pounding noise filled her ears. The door to Gilbert's room was open. She stopped just right outside of it. Everything seemed to slow down as she walked inside and then her world turned upside down. The room had been torn apart. The curtains lay in ribbons on the floor; the bed was overturned; the dresser had been knocked over; the window was broken; the bedside lamp had been smashed; there was blood on the walls.

The pain in Elizabeta's chest was gone. The noise in her ear had gone silent. Everything was still. Her breathing had stopped. The edges of her vision began to darken. She thought she heard someone say her name but it was too late. She was falling.

...

...

When she awoke it was night. She was lying on the couch in the sitting room. Across the room, Arthur sat at a table, furiously scribbling something into an overstuffed journal. Aside from the sound of his pen scratching against the paper, the hotel was quiet. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice she was awake until a few minutes later.

"Oh," he said softly. "Hello."

Elizabeta said nothing.

Arthur stood from the table and moved his chair closer to her.

"You passed out. I almost didn't catch you in time. The doctor said it was the shock. Physically, you're fine." He paused. "I…I'm sorry. I can't begin to imagine how you're feeling."

Elizabeta felt nothing but she kept quiet. There had been blood on the walls. She remembered that now.

"We are going to catch this guy. And we're going to find Gilbert. Alive. I promise. "

Elizabeta finally spoke up. "No."

"Pardon?"

"You said we. It's not _we. _It's _you_. I can't do anything. I'm not a detective. I'm not your sidekick. I…" She struggled to form the words. "I'm…I'm lost. I'm so lost. I think I've been for a long time, but I wouldn't believe it. Now…" She trailed off, unable to continue.

"Elizabeta…" Arthur reached out but his fingers had barely grazed her skin when she sprung up from the couch.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed.

Arthur looked stricken. She couldn't bear it. She couldn't bear to have him look at her like _that_. Anger, happiness, annoyance, boredom, love, she could have even borne love, but not _that_. Not that mix of sadness and pity that he looked at her now with. No, it was all too much.

"I-I didn't mean…I'm sorry," Arthur said hurriedly.

He stood up from the chair, causing Elizabeta to move closer to the door.

"Please, just stay away from me," she sobbed. "Just stay away."

She flung open the door and ran outside. The front doors of the hotel were still unlocked and she stumbled into the early evening. She ran without knowing where she was going. The streets were completely deserted. In the darkness, the only source of light were the street lamps on every corner.

In the end, it was the cemetery where she finally stopped and she knew that it was no accident that she was there. It took about twenty minutes for her to find what she was looking for but finally she found the tiny, neglected graves of Selena Rochester and her daughters. She had to brush away the tangle of weeds that covered the gravestones and she could barely make out the words in the darkness but she knew it was them.

"I don't understand," she whispered as she sunk to her knees. "What do you want from me? Am I being punished? Are you trying to tell me something?" Angrily, she slapped the ground. "Answer me! Give...give me a sign, a signal, a-an omen, I don't know, do something! Just…just don't leave me here alone."

She felt a cold breeze brush past her cheek. It sounded like a soft sigh but then it was gone, almost as quickly as it came. Finally, Elizabeta allowed herself to cry. She didn't know how long she sat there, sobbing quietly, before Arthur found her. He said nothing and she didn't bother asking how he had found her.

"Why did you run?" Arthur asked finally.

Elizabeta wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Because I didn't know what else to do."

"Well, don't do it again. It's not safe out now. And, in the end, it won't do anything but get you more lost."

"So, what do I do?"

"Perhaps get off the ground?"

Arthur held out his hand and Elizabeta took it.

...

...

They didn't go back to the hotel. They went back to Arthur's flat. He made her a cup of tea that she didn't ask for. Under all the numbness there was the faintest feeling of appreciation. She didn't drink the tea. Arthur didn't comment on it.

"I have some bad news," he said some time later. "It's about Lavinia."

Elizabeta looked away from the tea cup she had been staring at for an unknown amount of time and focused on Arthur's green eyes. He had stepped out a few minutes earlier to answer a phone call. She had barely noticed his absence.

"Yes?"

"She's missing. Her plane landed at Heathrow two hours ago. We know she went back to her flat. She then left it about twenty minutes later and continued on foot to the tube station on Baker Street. It was there that the two officers assigned to follow her, well, lost her. They searched the whole station, they even went back to her flat, which was perfectly in order. We're checking CCTV now but so far nothing." Arthur sighed deeply. "This is all turning out to be a perfect fucking mess. Lavinia was our best chance of catching the killer. If she's run, or if anything has happened to her…"

"You'll figure something out," Elizabeta said.

"I will, won't I?" Arthur said with a half-smile.

"You always do."

"Not always."

"Don't say that. Please, don't. You're the only one I can believe in now. If I can't believe in you I'll…You'll find him, won't you? I can't lose him Arthur. I can't." She had started crying again.

Arthur opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a beeping sound from his phone. He groaned and went to fetch it from the counter.

Seconds later, he was grabbing his coat and keys.

"Come on, get up. We need to go," he said.

"What happened?"

"I just got a text from an unknown number. It said 'I have the information you need' and then coordinates. We're going to these coordinates."

"You mean you are. I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes, you are." Arthur pulled her to her feet. He took her face in his hands. "You are going through some terrible fucking shit right now, I know. But you can't lose yourself to it, okay? Because I need you with me. Are you hearing me? I fucking _need_ you. You have to stay strong, if not for me, then for Gilbert. You have to be that young woman who runs headlong into danger, who loves to blatantly ignore everything I say, who is stubborn, loud, extremely irritating, an absolutely terrible shot, but is also kind of amazing when she really tries. Can you be her? If only for a little bit? Can you be the woman I need? I can't do this without her. Please tell me I haven't lost her."

Elizabeta sniffed. "No, she's here. She will always be here."

"Good. Now, let's go solve this case. But first, go wash up. You're not going to Cardiff with tear stains on your face."

"Cardiff?"

"I know my coordinates and these are definitely in Cardiff."

"And who will we find in Cardiff?"

Arthur smirked. "Who do you think?" He stuffed his phone into his coat pocket. "I'll be waiting in the car. Hurry up."

He closed the door of the flat. Elizabeta went to wash her face as instructed. She avoided looking at herself in the mirror, afraid of what she might see. She paused before opening the front door. Part of her wanted nothing more than to lie down and cry until there was nothing left inside. The only thing keeping her together mentally were Arthur's words. She forced herself not think about what Gilbert could be going through at that moment. She couldn't afford to think like that. Not when there was still a job to be done. She took a deep breath, opened the door and hurried after Arthur.

...

...

The coordinates ended up being a building in Cardiff Bay.

"It's this new attraction they're putting together. Something called 'The Hub'. I don't think anyone knows what it's about but the whole area has been under construction for a few months. It's completely closed off to the public," Arthur said.

"Sounds like the perfect place to set up a trap," Elizabeta replied.

"Maybe, but I don't think that's what this is."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Not just anyone can get the number to my phone. Whoever texted me is very well connected and also extremely clever. There's only one person it could be."

"Who?"

"That will ruin the surprise."

Elizabeta rolled her eyes and turned to look out the car window.

"How…how are you, you know, up here, in the head?" Arthur asked a few minutes later.

"Not good," Elizabeta admitted. "I feel like I could fall apart at any second. But I'm going to try not to."

"Okay."

They lapsed into a silence that wasn't broken until they finally reached Cardiff. The area around the building the coordinates led to was completely roped off with caution tape. White sheets of plastic covered every inch of the building. The only sound was the whistling of the wind and the occasional flapping of the plastic sheeting. The setting was more than a little eerie and Elizabeta couldn't shake the feeling of being in a horror movie

"I don't like this," she said. "You have no proof that the person we're meeting is the person you think it is."

"Which is why I brought my gun," Arthur said. "Although, if it is the person I think it is, I probably need it even more. Come on, let's go in."

They slipped under the caution tape and walked towards the covered building. The building on the other side of the plastic sheets was nothing more than a skeletal structure of crisscrossing metal beams.

"All these months of work and they've only got this far? It's pathetic really," Arthur commented.

"Or perhaps you just don't have an eye for art, Mr Kirkland," said a voice mockingly.

Elizabeta turned to see Lavinia Crewe step out into the dim light. She wore a knee-length black coat and held a small travel bag in one hand. Her red hair hung loosely around her face. The smile she wore was shrewd and deadly. The snobby, elegant woman had become someone wrapped in an aura of mystery and danger.

"Miss Crewe, we meet again," Arthur said.

"Did you know it would be me?" Lavinia asked.

"Of course."

"You really are as good as they say." The smile slipped of Lavinia's face. "Why is she here?"

"Because I wanted her here," Arthur said before Elizabeta could speak.

"Perhaps you're not so clever after all."

"How did you get the number for my phone?"

"I have friends in high places. A woman in my position needs to know as many people of influence as she can."

"And what sort of position are you in?"

Lavinia walked up to Arthur until their faces were inches apart. "I can be in any position you want me."

"I don't have time for games, Miss Crewe."

"Enough with the formality, please. You're making me feel like an old woman."

"In the text you sent you said you have the information I need. What information is that?"

"You just like to bend them right over, don't you?" She shrugged. "But if you insist. I know who your killer is."

"Do tell."

Lavinia laughed and leaned closer to Arthur. "I'm not that easy," she whispered.

"What do you want?"

"Insurance. I'm going on a bit of journey and I need to know that I won't have to worry about the police following my every move. I've been a very bad girl you see and now I've got a price on my head. I can't be worrying about both the men who want to kill me and the police. It's just too much, even for me. I need to know that after tonight, you'll forget about me. A hard thing to ask, I know, but you must. Unless you want people to keep dying."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

"You don't want to find out."

"I think I do."

"You won't like what you find."

"Trust me, I've seen worse."

Lavinia leaned in so close that there was little except a breath between their faces. "Have you really?" she whispered. Slowly, she reached inside his coat and pulled out a carton of cigarettes. Never breaking eye contact, she took a cigarette out of the carton before putting the carton back inside his jacket. Then she moved away suddenly and stepped back from Arthur. She pulled a lighter out of her pocket and lit the cigarette. She took a deep drag before saying finally, "No, I don't think you have."

Elizabeta couldn't keep quiet any longer. "Enough of this. Look Lavinia, if you know who the killer is you have to tell us now."

"I don't have to do anything," Lavinia snapped.

"Actually you do. That man took my friend and I will do anything to get him back. Anything."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Yes."

Lavinia frowned and exhaled a cloud of smoke. "You're playing with fire, little girl. Go home. Forget about your friend. He's probably dead already."

Elizabeta lunged but Arthur caught her before she could reach Lavinia.

"Elizabeta, you need to calm down," he said.

"Let me go, Arthur! I'm going to rip that smile off her face. Let me go! I'll kill her!"

Try as she might, Elizabeta couldn't break free of Arthur's hold. He was stronger than she had expected and the more she struggled, the tighter he held on. Finally she gave up and let herself go limp.

"How can you just stand there?" she sobbed. "How can you just stand there and let this happen? Please, just help us. I'm begging you. Please. I can't lose my friend. I can't. I can't lose another person I love."

Lavinia's face was an emotionless mask. "You think you know about loss? You know nothing. Think of this as an important life lesson from yours truly. Now, detective, time is of the essence. Let's make a deal."

Arthur slowly released his hold of Elizabeta, who stayed frozen in her spot.

"I'm not doing anything until you tell me what sort of business you're involved in and why someone wants you dead," he said.

"Look who's playing games now. As if you don't know," Lavinia replied.

Arthur smirked. "You mean about your drug smuggling operation? Yes, I know everything about _that_."

"Let's just say I pushed a few wrong buttons and if I don't get out of Britain within the next 12 hours, I'm as good as dead."

"I don't understand. Why would a woman such as yourself get involved in something as crude as drug smuggling? It makes no sense."

"I appreciate the flattery, but it's a waste. My reasons are my own."

"It's not about the money. No, you wouldn't put yourself at that much of a risk just for the money."

"Don't presume to know what I would and wouldn't do. You don't know me."

"Oh, but I do. You're clever, so very clever. Too clever to let yourself end up in such a dangerous situation unless you had no choice."

Arthur had begun to slowly circle Lavinia, who was being to look uncomfortable.

"You're making things up now," she said.

"Am I? I don't think so. You planned this all out, didn't you? From the moment we met, you planned it to end like this. No, it was even before that. It always had to me, didn't it? No one else could give you what you needed. You had to get me to come to you. Of course! You knew I would come to your flat in London. You knew I would notice the tissues in the bin, the mirror outline, the glass shards, even your injuries. There was no fractured ankle, was there?The medical reports, that you knew I would find, were fakes. You knew I would figure it all out. And when I realized that you were at the center of it all, you would perform your disappearing act, only to turn up here of all places with the exact information I need. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yes."

Arthur grinned. "Oh, you are good. Did you orchestrate your sister's death as well?"

"No!" Lavinia's face had gone pale. "Never. I loved my sister."

"That didn't stop you from using her death to get what you wanted."

"Stop it."

"You sacrificed the person who loved you most in the world just so you could make your getaway."

"I said stop it!" Lavinia screamed. "You have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Then enlighten me."

"No."

"Then no deal."

"Then you'll never find the killer and her friend will die." Lavinia pulled a phone out of the pocket of her jacket and tossed it to Arthur, who caught it with ease. "Everything you need to know is on that phone. Not just the name of the killer but the name of everyone involved in the smuggling operation. You think you're big now? Take that to your superiors and your name will go down in history. Arthur Kirkland: destroyer of the largest international drug network the world has ever seen. You will be the greatest detective that ever lived. You will have everything you ever wanted."

"And all I need to do is?"

"Let me go."

Arthur shook his head. "I don't think so."

"The only one who knows the passcode of that phone is me. You have only one try. Type in the wrong code and the hard drive is destroyed. All the information will be lost and that will be the end of everything."

"I don't need you to tell me the passcode of the phone."

"You'll never figure it out on your own."

"Don't insult me."

Lavinia smirked. "I would never. You're brilliant, but there are things even you can't do."

Arthur smiled. "Oh really?" He turned the phone over in his hand. "The passcode is what, four values? It can be a series of numbers or letters or a mix of both. But it's not a mix, is it? For a woman like you, that's too messy, too unaesthetic. So it's either just letters or just numbers. Whatever it is, it's something that is very important to you. You're a sentimental woman. You hold on to things. Like that bracelet on your right wrist. You were wearing it the day we met at your flat. It's clearly some years old. It's what, 10k gold? Nice enough but too cheap for a woman such as yourself to buy. So it must have been a gift. And from your sister too. 'To Lavi, with all my love, from M'. I saw the inscription when you reached inside my coat. M of course is Mary, which just happens to be four letters long. But that's not the code, is it? You're too smart to do that. In fact, any series of letters would be too obvious. So, numbers it is. It's not your birthday and it's not Mary's because again, too obvious. But it's not random either. How many number codes do you have to remember on a daily basis? Dozens most likely. You couldn't afford to choose a random collection of numbers that even a memory as brilliant as yours would forget easily. No, these numbers mean something to you. How many times in your life have you been truly happy, Lavinia? Very few most likely. I might not know your whole story but it doesn't take a genius to see how broken you are. Life has not been kind to you has it? You chose these numbers because they make you happy, because they represent one of the few times in your life that you felt pure joy. It's not the address of your parent's house, no. You hated that place. That was one thing you didn't lie to me about. And it's not the address to your flat in London either. These numbers don't represent a place or person. Places are temporary and people just break your heart. These numbers are a thing, specifically an event. The one major event in your life that happened because of your own talent and ability. January 1st, 2003. The day the 34th volume of 'The Wisp' was released. It featured a 10 page full photo spread of rising Russian ballet dancer Daria Ivanova. But it wasn't the lovely Miss Ivanova that caused the enormous praise the magazine received. It was the photos themselves. They were…breathtaking in every way. Simply breathtaking. And you were the photographer. The passcode is 3403. The volume of that copy of 'The Wisp' and the year it was published."

Lavinia's face was a mixture of shock and rage. "You're not possible," she whispered.

"I get that a lot." Arthur punched in the numbers but a cry from Lavinia stopped him before he pressed enter.

"Please, don't! They'll kill me!"

"You'll be taken into police custody. I think you'll be safe in a maximum security prison cell."

Lavinia spoke quickly. She had tears in her eyes. "You don't know these people. They'll find a way to get to me. I'm begging you not to do this. I'll lose everything!"

"Well, you seem to know plenty about loss, so I think you'll be okay," Elizabeta said coldly.

"Thank you for all your help, Lavinia. It's been a pleasure working with you," Arthur said before he pressed enter. His face suddenly contorted in horror and pain.

"Arthur, what's wrong? What did you see?" Elizabeta turned to Lavinia, who was smiling widely now. "Did he get the code wrong? What did you do?"

"No, he was 100% correct about the code. I just hit him right where it hurts. Our brilliant detective always pretends that he cares about no one except himself. He keeps everyone at a distance and you are very lucky if he tells you even a word about his personal life. The man who claims to have no heart but loves so _much_." Lavinia laughed. "Oh, I do love irony."

"How did you get this?" Arthur whispered, his eye still glued to the phone.

It was Lavinia who was circling Arthur now. "Like I said before, I have friends in high places. Your lover, shall we call him that? Since you were, after all, together almost three years. How sweet is that? Well, I suppose he's your ex now, so your _ex-lover_ has managed to get himself mixed up with a very interesting group of people. People who someone I know would very much love to get their hands on. That picture you're looking at was taken less than an hour ago. I can guarantee you that he's still there. Don't worry, the person who took the photo only took that one and the phone they used to take it was destroyed shortly after. So there aren't any extra copies floating around or anything. Just the one you're looking at. And all I have to do is send that picture to the right people and your sweetheart is as good as dead. Don't bother trying to delete it either or it will automatically send."

Arthur pulled out his gun and pointed it at Lavinia.

"Arthur, no!" Elizabeta cried.

"Get rid of it," Arthur hissed. "Now."

"Or you'll do what? Shoot me?" Lavinia laughed bitterly. "Go ahead! Everyone I ever loved is dead. I am a dead woman walking. Even if I do manage to get out of Britain tonight, at best I'll make it a week before I'm found. If they don't catch me then, they'll just keep trying. I will be hunted for the rest of my life. So go ahead and kill me. At this point I can't think of a better escape. And might I add, that photo's got a timer. Unless I disable it in the next thirty minutes it will be sent and your darling, sweet, An—"

"Don't you dare say his name!" Arthur yelled. "Or I'll shoot you, I swear it."

"Like I said, go ahead. Do us both a favor."

"Arthur, please put down the gun," Elizabeta said weakly. "Please. Don't do this."

She could see that a battle was going on inside Arthur's head. For a second it seemed as if he would shoot Lavinia but then he lowered the gun and tossed her the phone.

"Disable the timer and delete the photo," he said. He looked defeated in every way. "No one in the police force will ever find out about your involvement in any of this. You will be nothing except an unsolved missing's person case. You have my word."

"I believe you," Lavinia said. "I will delete the photo, but first you have to listen to my story. When you leave here tonight I want you to know why I did what I did. The world may never know, but I want you to."

"Why?"

"Because I'm the woman who beat you and I want you to know how.

I met him when I was 14—James Moran. Everyone called him Jim. Like me, he had lived in Rosebury his whole life, but, while I was aware of whom he was, I had never formally met him. The first thing he told me was that I was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. For a 14 year old girl, that's really all you need to say for her to fall in love with you. Jim was ten years older than me but I didn't care. He was so charming at first. He made me laugh and told me I was wonderful and always bought me little gifts and presents for no reason at all. But, after we had been together a few months, all of sudden he turned nasty. He became controlling and was always angry. I had tell him everything I did and I was never allowed to hang out with other people, especially boys. He made me do horrible things and told me if I ever told anyone he would kill me. So I kept quiet. I covered the bruises and I lied when I had to. This went on until I was sixteen. I was more or less suicidal by then. I thought about killing myself every day but was too scared to actually go through with it. Finally, on the day of my sixteenth birthday I told my parents and my sister what Jim had been doing to me. They didn't believe me. Over the years, I had developed a reputation of sorts in town. I was the girl parents never wanted their daughters to end up like. So naturally, my parents thought I was just lying for attention. Not even Mary believed me. I hated them all. Two days later I ran away. A month earlier, my class had gone on a trip to London and I had made some friends in the city. They had told me that I was welcome to stay with them whenever I wanted, so when I left Rosebury, that's where I went. It was wonderful at first. I was free from Jim and I could do anything I wanted. Every day was a party. My life became alcohol, sex, and drugs. But by the time I was 21, I was homeless in every sense of the word. That's when Sarah found me. You've both met Sarah."

"Sarah St. John?" Elizabeta said.

"Yes, but St. John was her grandmother's surname. Her name is really Sarah Moran. She's Jim's sister. She had been one of the few people who were kind to me when I lived in Rosebury. Jim never hurt me when she was around. When Sarah found me I was half-dead. She got us a flat in East London and took care of me. She put me in a rehab program and then another one when I ran away from the first one. When I finally got clean, she moved back to Rosebury, but not before helping me get a job as a freelance photographer. She even reunited me with Mary. My sister was the person I had missed the most and I forgave her almost as soon as I saw her. Mary told me that she believed me about Jim and apologized for not doing so earlier. She tried to get me to come back to Rosebury but I had already promised myself that I would never go back.

It was a few months later that I met Alex Tippet, the editor-and-chief of 'The Wisp', at an art gallery. He had seen some of my work and wanted me to do a few shoots for 'The Wisp'. He officially hired me three weeks later. I spent the next three years making a name for myself as a photographer. My big break was after the Ivanova shoot, which, as you so cleverly deduced detective, was the happiest moment of my life. I had become more than I had ever dreamed. Of course, all good things come to an end.

I had just moved to a new flat when Sarah came to see me. She told me it was time for me to repay her for all the help she had given me. I was surprised but I offered her money nonetheless. She wouldn't take it. She said I had to work to repay her. She told me about a 'business venture' of her brothers. It was smuggling drugs. I told her no and we got into a huge row. Then she left but two days later, she was back, this time with Jim." Lavinia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, they were cold and determined. "That…that was the worst day of my life. I was in such a bad state afterwards that they had to take me to the emergency room. They made up some story about me getting hit by a car or some nonsense like that. It took me_ two weeks_ before I could properly walk again. As soon as I was healthy enough they forced me into Jim's 'business venture'. That had always been the plan. They needed someone in a corporate position such as mine. They had never expected me to become so successful, which made it even more important that they could manipulate me. For two years I was a part of their drug smuggling operation. I couldn't tell Mary or they promised to kill her. She knew I was having some problems but I lied and made up stories about bad boyfriends or bosses. Every few months Jim or Sarah would come up to London to pay me a visit and make sure 'everything was going smoothly'. I was beginning to contemplate suicide again when Jim was arrested for killing a man in a bar fight. He was sentenced to life in prison. I believed I was really free. I cut off ties Sarah and completely removed her from my life. I told Mary everything that had happened. My only problem was that by then I had become too involved in the smuggling operation. If I ran, they would kill me or kill my family. So instead, I focused my efforts on climbing to the top of the operation. My contacts became more numerous and I began to amass a database of everyone associated with the organization. In a hundred years you would never guess some of the people involved."

"Members of Parliament?" Arthur guessed.

Lavinia grinned. "Higher."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You must be joking."

"You'll see soon."

"I suppose I will. Please, continue with your story."

"Of course. After five years I had enough information to bring the whole smuggling operation crashing down. However, just before I could go to the police, Jim was released from prison. The official reason was the emergence of new evidence that proved he was in fact innocent. Of course, I knew he had somehow managed to buy his way out. Once he was released, the first person he came to see was me. He told me that he had changed. He said he had found religion while in prison, but not any religion I had ever heard about. He said he forgave me for everything I had done but that I still needed to be punished because I had betrayed him and his sister. I offered him money, sex, anything I could think of. But he refused everything. He said the only way I could fully be absolved of all my 'sins' was through blood sacrifices. I had always known he was evil, but that was the first time I truly knew he was mad. Sarah smuggled him back into Rosebury and then the killings began. To keep my mouth shut he made Mary help him kill and dispose of his victims. He said he chose his victims because his god told him to. He said it was because of those people in my life that I had become the sinful person I was. I realized immediately, as I'm sure you have, what utter bullshit that was. He picked the people he knew would cause me the most pain."

"But you didn't know Irving Adler, did you?" Elizabeta said. "Mary did. Gilbert found a photograph of them together during the school science fair. She was his mentor."

"Yes, she was. She adored Irving. A few years earlier Mary had gotten involved with this man. I can't even remember his name. He had moved to Rosebury for work-related reasons and was supposed to have only been in town for a few months. They had only been dating a few weeks when Mary found out she was pregnant. She was ecstatic. She had never imagined herself in a serious relationship, let alone having a family. I told her to tread carefully but she told me I was worrying over nothing. The day after she told the man she was pregnant, he took off. He didn't even say goodbye. Mary became very depressed and then very ill. She lost the baby. It was a boy and she always told me that Irving was like the son she never had." Lavinia's eyes flashed angrily. "She loved him so much and Jim made her watch while he tortured and killed the boy. It broke Mary. She was never the same after that. Sometimes I think that was the day she really died and the woman Jim later killed was just an empty shell of someone long gone. My sister was lost to me after Irving died, which is exactly what Jim wanted…"

Lavinia trailed off. Her cigarette was nothing more than a stub now. She took one more drag before dropping it into the ground.

"What about Helen Hudson?' Arthur asked impatiently. "How did you know her?"

"Helen was like an older sister to me when I lived in Rosebury. She knew that Jim treated me badly and she did her best to try and keep my spirits up. More than once she tried to get me to end the relationship but I was too afraid. Jim said he she had to die because she was a 'temptress' and an 'adulterous woman'. Again, bullshit. Jim always hated her because she was impervious to the charm he used on most people. She saw right through him the moment they met."

"How could you just stand by and let him kill these people? They were your friends!" Elizabeta asked angrily.

"Because Mary was still alive! I would have let him kill a thousand people for the sake of my sister."

Elizabeta shook her head in disbelief. "That's still not right."

"Don't preach to me, little girl," Lavinia snapped. "I don't need you to approve of my reasons, just to listen to them."

"Let's move on to Jim Baskerville," Arthur broke in.

"Jimmy. I never called him Jim. He was nothing like Jim, at least not when I knew him. He found me crying once after Jim hit me. He didn't ask any questions, just gave me a box of tissues and let me hang out in his auto shop while he fixed the cars. When Jim came around he was furious. Jimmy told him to piss off or he would call the police on him for trespassing on private property. Jim never forgave him for that."

"And what excuse did he give you for killing Baskerville?" Arthur asked.

"I…I don't remember. I don't think he did. I think he just killed him purely for revenge."

"I see."

"I'm sure you've read a lot of bad things about Jimmy and, while I don't know what caused him to become the man he did, you should know that there was a time when he was good." Lavinia bit her lip. "I would, uh, prefer not to talk about Joan or Mary."

Elizabeta opened her mouth to argue but Arthur cut her off with a look.

"That's fine," he said. "I think we know enough about them."

Elizabeta glared him but said nothing.

"Thank you," Lavinia said. "To be honest, it was Mary's death that truly and finally set me free of Jim. He had taken away the last person he could have used to hurt me. That's why I can walk away now." Lavinia punched some buttons on the phone. "As promised, I've deleted the picture. He's safe." She tossed the phone back to Arthur. "I take my leave now. I know Jim is in Rosebury but I'm afraid I don't know where exactly. Mary knew, but she never told me. Find Sarah, she will know. It's 3:38 A.M. now. If you really hurry, you can make it back to Rosebury by five. That's when Sarah gets to the bakery. Don't be afraid to smack her around a bit if she gets fussy. She deserves a lot worse. And when you find Jim, do me a favor. Kill him. If he goes to jail, he'll just find some way out."

"Unless I have no other choice, I can't do that," Arthur said.

Lavinia shrugged. "Well, he's your problem now. Deal with him as you see fit. So long."

"Wait! Why don't you come with us? Tell my superiors what you've just told me. I can keep you out of prison and I can make sure you get the best protection in the world."

Lavinia shook her head. "How can you protect me, when you can't even protect the man you love?"

"I-I don't love…I never said," Arthur stammered.

Lavinia gave him a sad smile. "Thanks for the offer but I'll take my chances on my own. Let's meet in another lifetime, Kirkland." She turned to go but then paused. "I almost forgot. Miss Watson…or should I say, Miss Hédeváry? I have a message for you. While I was in Rome I met up with one of my Italian contacts. Somehow your name came into the conversation. Don't bother asking why. Anyway, I was told to pass along a message: _non c'__è rosa senza spine_. Do you know what that means?"

"'_Every rose has its thorns,'_ " Elizabeta said. "Why would they tell you to tell me that?"

"Haven't got a clue but it seems you're in a bit of mess of your own. Better watch out, little girl. Or the big bad wolf will find you." She winked. "_Ciao_."

Lavinia walked back in the direction she came, the sound of her heels clicking against the ground becoming fainter and fainter until there was only silence once more.

"We need to get back to Rosebury," Arthur said, already walking back towards the car.

"Yes," Elizabeta said quietly, still looking in the direction Lavinia had gone, the woman's last words still ringing in her ear.

_Non c'__è rosa senza spine._ She had no idea what the significance of those words was but they sent a chill throughout her body. She turned and walked quickly to catch up with Arthur.

* * *

They managed to arrive at Rosebury only a few minutes after five. They were walking towards the bakery when Elizabeta felt a cold breeze rush past. She glanced around and realized that she recognized the area.

"This was where I ran into Mary," she said aloud. "It was actually right there." She ran to the spot. "I was standing here and Mary right in front of me." Elizabeta stood where Mary had and looked up. Directly in front of her was the bakery. "So, that's it. She must have seen Sarah in the window. That's what caused her to run."

"That's one part of the case solved," Arthur said. "Let's see if Miss St. John—I suppose I should use Moran—let's see if Miss Moran can help us solve the rest." He knocked on the door the bakery. "Miss St. John? It's Detective Inspector Kirkland. Can I speak to you for a few minutes?"

The sound of something breaking followed by someone moving about came from the other side of the door. A minute later, the door opened, revealing a red face Sarah Moran. Her blond hair was tied up in a messy bun, although a few tendril had escaped.

"Why Detective Inspector, what brings you here at this time?" she asked cheerfully. "I apologize for my appearance. I just finished putting some loaves in the oven."

"I just have a few questions for you. After what happened yesterday, the police have decided best to re-interview anyone still left in town."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "And you chose now of all times?"

Arthur smiled. "I wanted get through as many people as I could today and I was told you would be available now."

"Well, you should thank whoever told you that. Come inside. Would you like some tea or a bit of bread?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Arthur replied.

"How about you, Miss Watson? Can I get you anything?"

"Drop the act, you know who I am," Elizabeta snapped.

Arthur groaned. Sarah blinked.

"Pardon? I don't understand," she said.

"I think you do."

"Elizabeta—"

"Shut up, Arthur."

Elizabeta walked up to Sarah, who moved back until she ran into the wall.

"W-What are you doing?" Sarah stammered. "What's going on?"

"I said drop the fucking act! Now, where is he?"

"Where is who?"

"You know who I'm talking about."

"I don't! Really!" When Elizabeta stepped closer to her Sarah made a squeaking sound and crouched down. "Please, stay away! Don't hurt me!"

"Your name is Sarah Moran. Your brother is James Moran. He's the one who has been killing the people of this town and he's the one who took my friend. Now, where is he?"

"You're mad! Absolutely mad! I don't have a brother! And my name is Sarah St. John! Detective Inspector, can you please get this woman away from me?"

"You can't fool me," Elizabeta hissed. "I know—"

She stopped when she felt a cool breeze drift past her. She turned and found herself looking down a short hallway that ended at a wall covered with a large mirror. She moved away from Sarah and started walking towards the mirror.

"Where are you going?" Sarah yelled from the floor. "Where is she going?"

"Elizabeta?" Arthur asked. "What's up?"

"There's something wrong with this mirror," Elizabeta said.

"That's it. I've had enough of this nonsense," Sarah said. "You two need to leave."

Elizabeta reached the mirror. She felt around the edges and ran her hands over the adjacent walls.

"Why isn't anyone listening to me?" Sarah shrieked.

Elizabeta almost missed the slight depression at the top of the mirror frame. She pressed down and the door the mirror was covering swung open, revealing a bare room with a gaping hole in the floor.

"Through the looking glass, down the rabbit hole, and to wonderland you shall go," she whispered.

She heard movement from behind and spun around just in time to see Sarah pull a gun from under the front counter. But Arthur was faster. He had his pointed at Sarah's head before she could even raise her arm.

"I don't think so," he said. "Toss it in down the hall."

Sarah didn't take her eyes off Elizabeta.

"I said, toss it," Arthur repeated.

Sarah threw the gun towards Elizabeta.

"Get that will you, Elizabeta."

She quickly picked up the gun.

"Now, we're all going to go on a little walk to the station."

"Arthur, I'm not leaving." Elizabeta said.

"Yes, you are. We can't go down there without back up."

"Gilbert is down there probably being tortured as we speak. I'm not leaving without him."

She walked back towards the hole.

"I'm not letting you go down there alone," Arthur said.

"Then come with me."

Arthur groaned. "Why must you be like this? Okay, okay! But I'm going first. You will follow after Miss Moran." He looked down at Sarah. "Stand up."

She got to her feet, never taking her eyes off Elizabeta. Slowly, they rearranged themselves so that Arthur was at the front, Sarah in the middle, and Elizabeta at the back.

"Scream or try anything funny and I will shoot you," Elizabeta said.

Sarah didn't reply.

Metal rungs jutted out from the side of the hole. Arthur lowered himself in and quietly began to climb down.

Elizabeta nudged the tip of her gun into Sarah's back. "Your turn."

Sarah followed wordless after Arthur and Elizabeta began her descent a few seconds after. It was only about ten feet down to the bottom. It was not wonderland Elizabeta found herself in when her feet touched the ground, but a small dimly lit room. Metal piping ran along the walls. There was a door at one end. A hallway that probably led to another room was at another end. Where, Elizabeta, Arthur and Sarah stood, there was a wall that jutted out, concealing a section of the room.

Arthur turned to Elizabeta. "Watch her," he whispered.

She nodded. Holding his gun in front of him, Arthur peered around the wall. His mouth dropped open and he glanced back at Elizabeta. Her knees felt weak and she almost dropped the gun in her hand. Arthur walked back towards her and inclined his head in a manner indicating that she should go look. Hardly daring to breath, she peered around the wall and had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from making a noise. Blindfolded and tied to a chair in the middle of the room was a very battered but very much alive Gilbert. She hurried over to him and set down her gun. She reached up and she saw his whole body tense. Her heart sunk as she imagined everything he had gone through in the past day. Carefully, she pulled the blindfold off his face. He opened his eyes and for a few seconds stared at her as if he couldn't believe she was standing in front of him.

"Liz?" he whispered.

She nodded. Tears streamed down her face.

Gilbert sighed in relief. "What took you so long?"

She smiled despite herself.

"Be honest with me, Liz? How badly did that bastard mess up my face?"

"That should be the least of your concerns."

She went around to the back of the chair and saw that Gilbert was handcuffed to it.

Gilbert groaned softly. "Oh, shit. That bad?"

"Stop it. Your face will be fine."

"He almost shaved my head yesterday. I nearly died right then."

"You are impossible. I come to rescue you and all you do whine about your face and hair. How about a thank you? Where are the keys to the handcuffs?"

"Freakshow took them with him. I am going to kill that fucker."

Elizabeta turned when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching but it was only Arthur with Sarah.

"Fancy seeing you here, Kirkland. How do you like my new crib?" Gilbert said.

Arthur stared at him in disbelief.

"He's handcuffed to the chair," Elizabeta told him. "Moran has the key."

"I can—" Arthur started but then quickly put a finger to his lips.

Elizabeta froze. Someone was walking towards them. Suddenly, Sarah started to scream.

"Shut up!" Arthur hissed, but it was too late. The person had started to run. "Fuck! Elizabeta, stay with her!"

He took off after Moran before Elizabeta could stop him.

"Liz!"

Elizabeta turned to see Sarah crouching down to grab the gun she had set on the ground. She tackled her to floor. Sarah was both taller and heavier than her, making it easy to roll them over so that she was straddling Elizabeta. She struck her across the face and Elizabeta tasted blood in her mouth. Sarah struck her again and again. Elizabeta could hear Gilbert yelling in the background. She tried to cover her face but Sarah pulled her arms away.

"My brother will kill you," she said viciously, "and I shall be here when he makes you scream. You've ruined everything!"

Elizabeta reached out for something to grab and her fingers touched cool metal. She didn't think, just grasped the object and swung it. The metal pipe she had grabbed hit the side of Sarah's head. Sarah screamed and fell off her. Elizabeta scrambled to her feet, the pipe still in hand. Too late she realized that she had lost track of the gun. She searched the floor and saw it was by Sarah, who was still screaming and clutching her head. Elizabeta approached her slowly, but she had barely taken two steps before Sarah reached over to grab the gun.

"Nice try." She gave her a cruel smile. "I was going to leave you for my brother, but I think I'll just kill you now."

She pulled the trigger but nothing happened. She stared at the gun in confusion.

"What the—"

Elizabeta didn't give her a chance to finish. She kicked the gun out of her hand and swung the pipe as hard as she could at Sarah's head. Sarah fell to the ground without a sound. Elizabeta let out a deep breath and dropped the pipe. She picked up the gun from where it had landed. She turned it over in her hand and laughed.

"First rule of Arthur Kirkland's school of gun safety: Always check the safety."

She stumbled back over to Gilbert.

"Sorry for the interruption," she muttered.

"I thought girl fights were supposed to be hot. That was terrible. I nearly had a heart attack three times. Are you okay? You look like shit. Your nose is bleeding."

Elizabeta reached up and found that a steady stream of blood was coming out of her nose.

"I'll deal with it later. We need to get you out of here. Where might Moran keep the key?"

"There's a door at the end of the room he puts a lot of stuff in. Try there."

Elizabeta hurried to the door and swung it open. She screamed.

"Liz! Liz, what happened?"

"H-Hands," she gasped. "Oh, God. There…there are hands in here. Hands on the wall."

Tied together in pairs and strung up on the walls were the hands of Moran's victims. The whole room smelled like rotting meat and Elizabeta began to gag. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a key hanging on a hook. She grabbed it and slammed the door closed.

"Please let these be the right ones," she said as she ran back over to Gilbert.

"What were you saying about hands?" he asked.

"I found where he keeps the hands he takes from his victims. They're hung up in that room."

"Just when I thought today couldn't get more fucked up."

Elizabeta knelt down behind him and fit the key into the keyhole. The handcuffs clicked open.

"Sweet freedom," Gilbert said as he leapt out of the chair.

Elizabeta threw her arms around him.

"Aw, Liz. You know how I feel about hallmark moments."

"Shut up. Just shut up. I thought I had lost you forever."

"As if it would be that easy to get rid of me."

"I'm so sorry Gilbert. I keep dragging you into these messes."

"It's not your fault. I'm just so attractive even danger can't resist me. But seriously, Liz. I'm fine. You're the best knight in shining armor a guy could ask for. Although, maybe not the best looking. You can stop crying now."

Elizabeta pulled away and wiped her face. "I got blood all over the…blood on your shirt."

They both burst out laughing.

"We are some pair," Gilbert said. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"You go. I need to find Arthur. Get to the police station."

"No way. I can't let you go after those two alone."

"You don't have a choice." Elizabeta held up the gun. "I've got this. I'll be fine. Trust me. Now go."

Gilbert hesitated. "Okay. Just take care of yourself."

Elizabeta nodded. "Got it."

Gilbert headed up the ladder and Elizabeta went down the hallway. It turned out to be a long passage full of twists and turns. She couldn't help but be amazed that someone could build such a place underground. After about five minutes she reached another set of metal rungs. She climbed upwards and emerged in the middle of the woods.

"Arthur!" she called. "Arthur!"

She heard a grunting noise. She walked in the direction of the noise and came upon a man lying in a small clearing. He was tall with a slightly muscular build. He had short brown hair, a long nose, full lips, and a strong jaw. His eyes were closed. There was a large and still growing blood stain on his shirt. She had found James Moran. For a man who had ruined so many lives and caused so much pain, at that moment, he didn't look very dangerous. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and she almost fell backwards in surprise.

Moran smiled slowly. "Well, look who it is. The one who should have never been. The one who got away from me. Little Red." He said. He looked at her with those sad, dark gray eyes. "Still running from the big bad wolf?"

"I'm not running. And the only wolf I see is bleeding in front of me," Elizabeta said angrily.

He laughed and then winced. "I'm no wolf. I'm a lamb really compared to what's hunting you."

"And who is that?"

"I already told you, the big bad wolf. He's very upset with you."

"You're delusional."

"And you're in denial."

Moran gasped and Elizabeta saw a shudder run through his whole body.

"I'm dying," he said.

"The police will be here soon."

"I'll be dead by then." He sighed. "I wish my Lavinia was here. I never got to tell her how sorry I am."

"No, you're not."

Moran's gaze swept over her face and he grinned. "You better run fast, Little Red. The wolf is getting closer."

"Stop calling me that! There is no wolf!"

"Oh, but there is. And he gave me a message just for you. Want to hear?"

"...Yes."

"_Non c'__è rosa senza spine._"

It was like a punch to the gut. Elizabeta struggled to breath. Her legs threatened to give out on her.

"W-Who told you that?" she said.

"How many times must I say this? The wolf."

"No! His name! Tell me his name!"

Moran wheezed heavily. "Oh, but that...would ruin all the fun."

"Tell me!"

"Too…too late," Moran said softly. "T-Time's up."

His eyes slowly closed. The up-and-down movement of his chest stopped.

"No, don't you go and die on me! The name! I need the name! Damn it!"

Elizabeta backed away from Moran's body as fast as she could, nearly falling over an exposed tree root.

"Arthur!" she called as she ran through the woods. "Arthur!"

She thought she would be stuck running in circles forever before she finally found him lying in the shade of large tree. He was so still that at first she thought he was dead, but then she saw he was breathing and she sighed in relief. She sat down next to him and lifted his head onto her lap. There was no blood on his clothes. The only sign of injury he had was a dark bruise forming on his temple.

"Arthur. Arthur, wake up."

She shook him gently. Arthur groaned and his eyes fluttered open.

"Hello," she said.

He grinned. "Why am I not surprised? You're a sight for sore eyes you know. Who did that to you?"

"Sarah. I was an idiot."

"You're not the only one. Moran surprised me. He hit me with a branch and I think I shot him but then I passed out. Please, tell me I got him."

"You got him. He's dead."

Arthur sighed. "Well, maybe it was for the best."

"Do you mean that?"

"A little. How's your friend?"

"Fine. I sent him to get the police."

"So, it's finally over."

"Yes. Yes, it is."

* * *

The rest of that day and the day after was comprised of police interviews at Scotland Yard, where Elizabeta was made to tell what had happened over and over again until she thought she would lose her voice. The only thing she left out was Lavinia and her story. Arthur kept his promise and refused to reveal to his superiors who had given him the phone. He would only refer to her as 'The Woman'. Elizabeta was afraid at first that his withholding of information might get him in trouble but Arthur assured her that he would be fine. He was better than that in fact. Already it was clear that Lavinia's prediction about Arthur's impending fame has been true. Arthur himself thought little about his new A-list celebrity status and seemed to find some twisted amusement in rejecting invitations for television interviews and insulting paparazzi. Elizabeta had asked that her involvement in the case be completely left out when the official news story was published. The last thing she needed was any form of publicity. Anyway, her role had been minimal. It was Arthur who had done all the hard work.

Sarah Moran had been arrested and would be soon sentenced to life imprisonment. Elizabeta was worried she might reveal the truth about Lavinia but Arthur said he would make sure she said nothing. Elizabeta didn't bother asking how.

They saw little of each other, she and Arthur, in the last few days. He was busy writing reports and statements and dealing with (ignoring) his new found fame. Elizabeta spent most of her time with Gilbert. She could see that despite all his jokes about the matter, Gilbert was deeply affected by what had happened to him. When she tried to talk to him about it he rolled his eyes and said she should stop acting like a worried mother. She knew he was having nightmares because at night she could hear him yelling his sleep. They never talked about those either. She wondered if his nightmares were anything like hers.

Finally, Elizabeta was informed that the police were satisfied with her testimonies and she could be on her way. Her and Gilbert's luggage had been brought down from Rosebury to save them the back and forth trip. Along with the luggage came a letter from Darcy, who Elizabeta hadn't had time to say goodbye to. Most of the letter was Darcy going on about how cool and amazing her and Arthur catching Moran had been and how awesome it was to have so many news reporters in Rosebury. She had even gotten to be on TV. It was the conclusion of the letter that raised Elizabeta's eyebrows. Apparently Darcy had done some digging at the library and discovered that Jim Moran was the grandson of the mistress of the mayor who had been responsible for the death of Selena Rochester's daughter. Darcy could hardly believe the coincidence and commented that it seemed Selena had finally gotten her revenge. Elizabeta couldn't agree more.

The morning of the day she and Gilbert were scheduled to leave, Elizabeta got a call that she should come by Scotland Yard. She was more than a little annoyed that she was being called back after already having been told that she was free to go. When she arrived she was led upstairs by a smiling secretary to a large office. It was mostly empty except for a few books on the bookshelf, some boxes on the windowsill, and a bouquet of pink flowers on the desk.

"I'm still moving in."

Elizabeta turned to see Arthur closing the door of the office behind him. She found herself smiling for the first time that day.

"How do you like the new office?" He continued. "I finally convinced those buggers to give me a window."

"It's nice. It's very...roomy."

Arthur fell into the chair behind the desk. "That's the perks of a promotion."

"Really? Congratulations!"

"It's Chief Inspector Arthur Kirkland now. Or it will be soon. Paperwork still needs to be processed."

"I'm so happy for you. You deserve it."

"I know. So, you're leaving today?"

"Yes. We're going to Heathrow in a few hours."

"And, uh, are you, uh, okay? Is everything, you know, fine?"

"No, not really. In time, I'm sure, but there's just a lot to deal with right now. Gilbert won't even talk about it."

"Well, I'm, uh, sorry about everything."

"Don't be. Who are the flowers from, by the way?"

"Oh, these?" Arthur picked up the bouquet. "They arrived in the mail this morning from an anonymous sender. No note or tag or anything."

"Someone has a secret admirer. How sweet."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Hardly a secret. These are dahlia flowers. They have a wide variety of meanings, making them a sort of a wild card symbolism wise. They can mean dignity or elegance and can even be used as a warning or a sign of change. They can also symbolize an eternal bond, a wish to be 'forever thine'." He set the flowers back down. "They're from Lavinia."

Elizabeta raised an eyebrow. "And you know how?"

Arthur gave her a look that more or less showed how stupid he thought that question was.

"Never mind," Elizabeta said.

"The irony of the flowers, as well as their mixed message, was enough to tell me immediately who they were from. Oh, that woman," Arthur said with admiration.

"I wonder where she is."

"Bolivia."

"...okay. I'm not even going to ask how you knew that. What are you going to do with the information? Are you going to turn her in afterall?"

"No. I might keep an eye on her for bit. Make sure she stays out of trouble."

"I think you like her."

Arthur scowled. "Don't say ridiculous things like that."

"So, are you going to tell me who was in the photo on Lavinia's phone?"

"Are you going to tell me about "_non c'__è rosa senza spine" _and this mess you're apparently in?"

"No."

"Then you know my answer." Arthur stood up from his desk. "I have a meeting in five minutes."

"Why did you ask me here in the first place?" Elizabeta asked as she stood up.

Arthur blushed. "Well, er, I knew you were leaving today and, uh, well I thought it would unfortunate not to, um, properly and officially bring this, uh, partnership to an end...I-I mean-"

Elizabeta laughed. "It's okay, I understand. But, it was never really a partnership, was it?"

"No," Arthur admitted. "You had already escaped from Collins and Bennet twice. I was certain there would be a third time. I knew the only way to keep you safe and keep you from running off was to, unofficially, put you on the case. I had to make you think you were an important asset to the team and to the case."

"And that's why when you knew you wouldn't be around you told me to go to the library to 'do research'. Meaningless busy work basically. While you did the real work."

"Yes. You were the only witness. I couldn't let anything happen to you."

Elizabeta found that she was more relieved than angry at this revelation. "Okay, well thanks for being honest." She held out her hand. "Goodbye, Arthur."

Arthur shook her hand. "Goodbye, Elizabeta. Take care. For what it's worth, you were alright in the end."

"Just alright?"

"Don't push it."

"Got it."

* * *

Elizabeta had finished packing the last of her things when Gilbert burst into her hotel room.

"Next stop, New York City!" He threw his bags on the floor and jumped onto the bed she had just finished making. "I actually have an ex who lives in the Hamptons. We should stay with him, Liz. I'm tired of cheap hotels."

Elizabeta bit her lip. It was time for her to finally come clean.

"I'm not going to New York, Gilbert," she said quietly.

"What? Where are you going?"

"I...I really don't know."

Gilbert frowned. "Okay, Liz. Time to fess up. What are you hiding?"

Elizabeta sighed heavily and then finally told him what Lavinia and Moran had told her.

"Why are you just telling me this now?" Gilbert asked angrily.

"Because I didn't want you to worry. You have plenty to deal with without my added problems."

"What do you think the message means? And who is this big bad wolf?"

"I don't know. I just know that something bad is coming. I don't want to run but I really don't have any other choice."

Gilbert looked thoughtful for a few seconds.

"Go home," he said finally. "Go back to Budapest. I have a plan."

"I can't go home! I don't want these people finding out where I live!"

"Liz, they probably already do. They know your name and with technology these days that's really all you need to find everything you want about someone."

Elizabeta groaned. "Why is this happening? How did everything end up so wrong?"

"Who knows? But there's no point dwelling on that now. Go home and wait for me to call you."

"Are you going back to Berlin? What are you planning?"

"Yes and I'm not telling now."

"Gilbert!"

"Nope. You're just going to have to be patient. Genius planning such as mine takes time."

Elizabeta snorted. "I'm sure."

Gilbert became serious. "Trust me, Elizabeta. Everything's going to be fine. I promise."

She smiled and wanted to believe him but at the back of her mind she knew just how wrong he was.

...

...

Gilbert's flight to Berlin left first so Elizabeta was left to wait alone in the airport for another five hours before it was finally time to board the plane to Budapest. A flight to New Zealand was leaving at the same time and she fantasized for a few minutes about getting on it, but in the end, decided to trust in Gilbert and whatever this plan of his was.

As she was walking towards the boarding gate she nearly collided with a baggage cart, causing her to drop her carry on. The man who had been pushing the cart was kind enough to pick up her bag for her and just as she was about to thank him she noticed something behind him.

Standing in the middle of the crowds was a person whose face was completely wrapped in bandages. She could only see their eyes and knew right away that they were looking at her. Elizabeta felt a shiver run down her back. Those eyes knew her and they hated.

"Excuse me, Miss? Are you alright?"

Elizabeta blinked and saw that the man with the luggage cart was still standing in front of her, holding out her bag.

"Hmm? Y-Yes...I'm fine. Thank you," she said before taking her bag.

She looked back to where the bandaged person had been standing. They were gone. She shivered again and hurried to the boarding gate.

* * *

**a/n:** some spoilers for next chapter: the title of the chapter will be "Intermission" and it will feature two characters we haven't seen in awhile. That's all I will say :)


	15. Intermission: Part 1

**A/N:** This chapter is a little shorter than usual. Please enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

* * *

_Intermission:_

_Part 1_

The church was empty. This was Antonio's fourth time there and he was beginning to think this was a common occurrence. The church was old, and worn away by time and neglect. It was located in one of Palermo's poorer neighborhoods and was almost completely inconspicuous. Except for a faded sign above the front door, there was little that identified the church as a church at all. Antonio had stumbled upon it purely by accident when he had been searching for an escape from the heat. He had opened the door thinking it perhaps led to a shop of some sorts, but instead, he had found himself in a cool, dark room lined with pews on both sides and, at the very front, a dusty wooden altar on which had been placed three squat candles. They had been lit then and they were lit now, which led Antonio to believe that, although he had yet to see a priest or even an altar boy, someone cared about the church. At least enough to keep the candles lit. Behind the altar was a large wooden cross that leaned to one side. Above it was a painted glass image of an angel. The glass was dirty and had been smashed in one corner, but was still the most beautiful thing in the church.

Antonio slid into a pew and knelt down. He lowered his head and clasped his hands together but he didn't pray. He had attended church every Sunday with his mother—a very devout Catholic—up until he had left for Parma, but he hadn't spoken to God or felt much religious inclination since he was fourteen. Absentmindedly, Antonio reached up to twirl his fingers around the cross that hung around his neck. He had been fourteen when he had realized he had a crush on Pastor Gabriel, the young and very handsome leader of the youth group to which he had belonged. Fortunately or unfortunately, along with being very handsome, Pastor Gabriel had also been very married to a French woman called Paulette, whom he had met on a mission's trip to Kenya. Antonio had quit the youth group a few weeks after acknowledging his feelings for Pastor Gabriel, knowing full well that the good Pastor would never return them. However, Antonio's attraction to men did not end there, though he had found that he still liked girls—well as much as a fourteen year old boy liked girls.

He had never told his mother. He suspected she knew to some extent, although she had never said anything that might indicate this. Antonio guessed it was lucky that none of his relationships had ever lasted very long. Liking someone was easy enough, but loving them was…complicated. The one exception had been Regina Salamanca. Pretty and petite, with dimples and curly brown hair, the twenty year old school teacher had been his first and only love. In return she had broken his heart by cheating on him with her second cousin. He had long forgiven her, but the years hadn't made it any easier to forget. It had been Antonio's longest relationship…not counting Arthur.

Antonio sighed and wondered why, of all the people who could have entered his mind at that exact moment, it had to be Arthur. Not for the first time, he felt an almost overwhelming desire to break something. What he'd had with Arthur hadn't been a relationship. It had been a disaster; a shipwreck of epic proportions. Antonio quickly pushed Arthur from his thoughts, afraid that he would end up wasting precious time with his angry ruminations. That was the past now and it was a past that he had tried to (and failed to) repeatedly bury. For a second, it seemed to Antonio that he was back in London, with its unappetizing food and terrible weather. When he felt the slight breeze he thought it was nothing more than a side effect of an all too vivid memory until he heard the sound of a door closing. He lifted his head just as a tall woman entered the church through one of the side doors. She wore a sleeveless, long black dress. Her hair was covered with a scarf, and on her face she wore a pair of large sunglasses. Luckily, Antonio had chosen one of the pews at the back of the church and he hunched down further, although he did not taken his eyes off the woman. He made no sound or had any plan to reveal himself, although he did not know if this was because of the fear he felt or the curiosity. The woman walked slowly to the altar and knelt down before it. She removed her sunglasses and her headscarf, revealing very short dark hair. Antonio couldn't see her face but he could hear her as she prayed.

"_Ave Maria, gratia plena, __Dominus tecum, B__enedicta tu in mulieribus, __et benedictus fructus ventris tui Iesus…"_

The familiar prayer was both nostalgic and unsettling to Antonio. He moved slowly towards the aisle to try and get a better view of the woman. The floorboards beneath his feet suddenly groaned. The woman turned violently and he finally saw her face. She was terribly beautiful and in that moment he realized that he knew her.

"Maria?"

Maria's eyes widened in response and, before Antonio could say another word, she ran towards the side door she had entered the church through. Antonio hurried after her, calling her name once more. He followed her though the door, which, to his surprise, led to a crowed street. Maria weaved through the packs of people and Antonio struggled to keep her in his sight. He couldn't afford to lose her now. Not after searching for all this time. Not after his promise to Lovino.

Maria suddenly ducked into a side street. Antonio picked up his pace, nearly knocking over a fruit stall. He turned the corner just in time to see Maria disappear into a building that, when he reached it a few seconds later, turned out to be an empty house. As he closed the front door behind him, Antonio was suddenly gripped by an unexplainable feeling of fear. Lovino hadn't told him much about Maria but, considering her background, she was no doubt very dangerous. Antonio checked the rooms on the first floor and found them all empty. He walked slowly up the stairs, nearly tripping over a broken step. The first thing he noticed when he reached the second floor was the open door at the end of the hallway. He started towards it and didn't hear the movement behind him before it was too late. He felt something press against his back and he froze, knowing immediately that it was a gun.

"Wait! Please!" he said quickly.

He spoke in English. His Italian had become rusty during the years he had spent in London and a grammatical mistake might just cost him his life.

"I'm a friend! Lovino sent me."

Maria moved to stand in front of him. She kept the gun in her hand aimed at his chest. Her eyes were cold and hard and they flashed angrily when he said Lovino's name.

"You must take me for a fool," she replied in perfect English. "Who sent you? You have five seconds."

"I just told you! Lovino!"

Maria's eyes narrowed. "Say that name again and I blow off your head. Who sent you? Now you have three seconds."

"He did! You have to believe me!"

"One second."

Frantically, Antonio racked his brain for something, anything, he could use.

"The vase! You broke the vase!" He blurted out.

Maria paled and she stumbled back until she ran into the wall.

"W-What did you—?"

Antonio couldn't believe he had forgotten about the vase. Lovino had more or less drilled that story into his head.

"You were sixteen. You accidentally broke the vase by the front door. It was worth almost a quarter of a million. Lovino…he helped you hide it and then he lied about what had happened. He took the blame."

Maria's face was twisted in pain and Antonio quickly continued.

"He's sorry, for telling me. But he knew it was the only way you would believe me."

"Who are you?" Maria asked finally.

"My name is Antonio. I'm a friend of Lovino. I came here to help you."

Maria's dark eyes bored into his and he forced himself not to look away. After what seemed like an eternity, she pushed herself off the wall and walked towards him.

"Well Antonio," she said slowly, "this is you lucky day."

She struck him in the face with the butt of the gun. A groan of pain escaped from Antonio's lips as he slumped forward.

"_How did I end up in this place?"_ He thought to himself before the darkness took over.

* * *

_He's sitting at the kitchen table when Lovino walks in. The fork in Antonio's hand clatters noisily against the plate on the table. He's surprised but also guilty, as if he has been caught doing something distasteful. Lovino has turned slightly pink, which only makes Antonio feel more uncomfortable. It's been almost two weeks since Elizabeta left and this is only the second time Antonio has encountered his "roommate". Lovino is very good at keeping to himself. He rarely leaves his room, except to steal the food Antonio buys. This is the only thing that lets Antonio know that Lovino is still around and hasn't run off in the middle of the night to who knows where. Antonio has no idea if Lovino ever even leaves the villa. _

_In the first few days following Elizabeta's departure, Antonio had tried to coax Lovino out of his room. What was the point of living with someone if you never talked to them? He had given up five days later after receiving not a single response. _

_He's curious about this person he lives with. He knows that Lovino was…is in some sort of trouble but, beyond that, the younger man is an enigma. _

"_You're not supposed to be here," Lovino says finally, breaking the awkward silence. "You should be at work."_

"_How do you know that?" Antonio asks. _

_Lovino rolls his eyes. He strides past Antonio towards the fridge. He opens the fridge and glares at the contents inside. _

"_Wait, did you figure out my work schedule" Antonio asks, the realization dawning on him slowly. "Is that why you're so good at avoiding me?"_

_Lovino ignores the questions and says instead, "You need to buy more olives. Oranges too. And, if you can find a decent bottle, limencello."_

_He closes the fridge and grabs an apple from the counter._

"_There's nothing to eat in there," Lovino continues, glumly. "Are you trying to starve me?"_

"_You know, it wouldn't kill you to go grocery shopping once in a while," Antonio replies, trying to keep his tone light. "I'm not exactly made of money."_

_Lovino gives him a bored look before leaving the kitchen. He returns a few minutes later with a small stack of money._

_He drops the money in front of Antonio. "That's €500. Don't buy anything gross."_

_He's gone before Antonio can ask what exactly he means by "gross". Antonio sighs and picks up the money in front of him. He wonders how Lovino came by it. Did he steal it? If he's some type of criminal it would explain why he is in hiding. But why would Elizabeta help out a criminal? True, Antonio hasn't known her very long, but she didn't seem the type to get mixed up in anything too dangerous. Maybe. _

_Antonio sets the money back down on the table. It had been their second one-on-one conversation but, if anything, he is even more confused about Lovino than before…_

* * *

When Antonio finally came to, he found himself handcuffed to a chair.

"Hello, handsome. Good to see you finally awake," said a playful voice in heavily accented English.

Antonio looked up and saw leaning against the wall in front of him a stocky woman with short, boyishly cut hair. She wore a mocking smile and in her hands she toyed with a small gun.

Antonio froze when he saw the weapon.

As if she could hear his thoughts, the woman said, "Don't worry, sweetie. As long as you're good, I won't have to use this. Will you be good?"

Antonio nodded.

The woman smiled wider. "Wonderful."

"Where am I? How did I get here?" Antonio asked.

The woman turned the gun over in her hands. "Well, I can't answer the first question. As for the second: Maria."

The church. Chasing Maria through the streets. Confronting her in the house. It suddenly all came rushing back.

"She hit me," Antonio said. It was the only thing he could think to say. "Why would she hit me?"

The woman laughed. "That's our Maria."

At that moment a tall, muscular man walked into the room. He glanced briefly at Antonio before saying something to the woman in rapid Italian. Antonio could pick out only a few words. He was unfamiliar with the dialect and the throbbing pain in his head wasn't helping anything. He could tell, at least, that it was not a happy conversation. It ended with the woman angrily striding out of the room. The man took the woman's place against the wall. He didn't look at Antonio. In fact, he acted like Antonio wasn't even there. Antonio had a million and one questions to ask but the man looked like he would shoot someone for breathing too loud. Instead, Antonio took the time to survey the room he was in. It was a smallish room with once white paint on the walls that was chipped and peeling. A single light bulb swung from the ceiling, giving the room an eerie glow. There were brown stains on the carpet that looked suspiciously like dried blood. Antonio felt a shiver run down his spine. This was an interrogation room.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps. Into the room walked Maria followed by the woman from before.

Antonio leaned forward and winced as his restraints pulled him back.

"Maria! Where am I? Why did you hit me?" he asked.

"Because I do not trust you," Maria replied.

"But…but I told you the story about the vase."

Maria knelt down in front of him.

"You think a stupid little story would make me trust you?"

"Lovino said—"

"I do not want to hear what "Lovino sad". I learned a long time ago not to trust what "people say"."

"No! You have to believe me. Lovino sent me to find you. He's been searching for you for months."

"I did not say I didn't believe you…I just don't trust you."

Antonio frowned. "I…I don't understand."

Maria reached into her pocket and pulled out a cross necklace.

"Do you know what this is?" she asked.

"A necklace?"

"It doesn't look familiar?"

"Should it?"

Maria rolled her eyes. "Yes, considering you were wearing it around your neck when we met."

Antonio looked down and saw that the cross he had worn around his neck was indeed gone.

"But why did you take it?" he asked.

"How did you come by this necklace?"

"Lovino gave it to me. I told him I wasn't very religious but he said it was for luck."

The corners of Maria's mouth curved upwards in an almost smile.

"Perhaps he was right," she said, slipping the necklace it back into her pocket. Her face became grave once more. She straightened up and nodded at the man leaning against the wall.

The man said something in Italian and Maria narrowed her eyes at him. The man hesitated but then walked over to Antonio and knelt down behind him. Antonio hardly dared to breathe until he heard a "click" and felt the handcuffs fall away.

"Come with me," Maria said, already walking towards the door.

Antonio hurried after her.

"Why did you—" he started but Maria cut him off with a sharp look.

"Don't say anything yet," she said.

She led him to a room crammed with boxes and it wasn't until she had shut the door behind them that a wide smile spread across her face. She rushed over to Antonio, who took a cautious step back but, instead of hitting him again, she grabbed his hands.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting for this?" she said breathlessly. "I knew Lovino would find me. I just knew he would! As soon as I saw that you were wearing the necklace I knew he had sent you." She pulled the necklace out of her pocket again. "This necklace belonged to my grandmother. Her initials are engraved on the back of the cross." She held it so that Antonio could see in the dim light the initials E.B. "My grandmother gave this to me a few months before she died. It's…very important to me." Her expression grew soft. "I gave this to Lovino when I last saw him. I hoped it would keep him safe. I know he would only give it to someone he absolutely trusted."

"B-But what about the story?" Antonio asked.

Maria made a dismissing gesture with her hand. "The story is unimportant. In fact, it never happened. It's part of a code Lovino and I used to use. If anything, it was just extra, unnecessary proof that you're not lying to me. The necklace was enough. But trust Lovino to be extra cautious."

She finally stepped back and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ears. She looked almost shy and, for the first time, like a young woman of 19, and not someone who seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Antonio thought that she really was beautiful, and almost instantly felt guilty and creepy. After all, he was over a decade older than her.

"I hit you because I had to," Maria said. "You must understand that I couldn't have you seeing the way to get here, just in case I was wrong about who you were. It was simpler than blindfolding you and having to explaining everything."

She walked over to the desk that was cluttered with papers and unlocked one of the drawers. She reached in and pulled out a small phone. Antonio recognized it almost immediately.

"Hey, that's mine!" He hadn't even noticed it was gone. He had been too preoccupied with being handcuffed to a chair.

"I found it in your pocket after I knocked you out. Lovino gave it to you, didn't he? Where is he? Is he in the city? Is he safe? When will he contact you?"

Maria spoke rapidly and seemed unable to stand still.

"Um, well," Antonio fidgeted under Maria's intense gaze. "It's a little complicated."

* * *

_Every so often there is a particularly hot day that results in an unforeseen and rapid halt in the influx of customers. On these days, when it's fortunate to have more than two customers walk through the doors, Antonio's boss lets him leave early. _

"_I'm home," he says when arrives back at the villa. He doesn't expect an answer and he never gets one. _

_He kicks off his shoes and glides into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and is unsurprised to discover that the leftovers from his dinner the previous evening are gone. He settles on an orange. He peels it slowly, discarding the skins in the wastebasket. He leaves the kitchen and walks towards his room, wondering what to do with the extra hours he has been given. As he walks towards the staircase, he passes by the sliding glass doors that lead to the pool. Absentmindedly, he glances outside. The orange slips from his hand. Lying face down in the pool is Lovino. _

_His feet react before his brain. He doesn't realize that he is running until he is outside. He jumps into the pool and grabs Lovino. He is more than a little surprised when what he thought—hoped—was just an unconscious body jerks violently away from him._

"_What the fuck are you doing?" Lovino splutters._

_Antonio stares at him in disbelief. "I thought…I thought…" He feels his face start to heat up. "I thought you were unconscious. You looked…" He trails off, too embarrassed to continue. _

"_Are you some kind of moron?" Lovino snaps angrily. "I was swimming!"_

"_Who swims lying face down in the water?"_

"_I do, so fuck off."_

"_I'm sorry. There's no need to get so angry. I was worried."_

"_Why?"_

_This catches Antonio by surprise. _

"_What?" he asks._

_Lovino rolls his eyes. "Did I stutter? I asked: Why? Why were you worried?"_

"_Why wouldn't I be worried? Anyone would freak out if they saw someone floating in their pool."_

"_I see…"_

_An awkward silence descends upon them. Antonio realizes that he must look like an idiot standing there, fully clothed, with water dripping from his hair._

"_Well, are you alright?" he asks after a few seconds._

"_What's it to you?"_

"_I'm just trying to be nice."_

"_Be nice to someone else. Go away."_

"_Why are you like this?"_

"_Because I don't like people who stick their nose where it doesn't belong! Why won't you just leave me alone?"_

"_Well maybe it's because I don't know anything about you. We live together but I never even see you unless we run into each other on accident."_

"_Wow, you think maybe there's a reason for that?" Lovino says dryly. _

_He climbs out of the pools and picks up a towel lying on a deck chair. Antonio follows suit, except he has no towel, so he settles on just wringing the water out of his shirt._

"_Sorry, but this isn't easy for me, living with someone and not knowing anything about them."_

"_Too bad. Get used to it."_

"_Who are you?" Antonio blurts. "Why are you here? What did you do? How do you know Elizabeta?"_

_The look Lovino gives him is murderous, but Antonio is feeling reckless today. _

"_We're done here," Lovino says._

_He starts walking towards the glass doors._

_Antonio tries one more time. "Do…do you ever even call her?"_

_That stops Lovino. Antonio thinks he'll turn around and scream at him, or maybe just shoot him. Lovino does neither. He walks into the villa and closes the door behind him._

* * *

"So, he's not coming?"

The smile had slipped from Maria's face and had been replaced by a look of sadness and confusion.

"It's not that he doesn't want to," Antonio explained quickly, "it's that he physically can't get into the city. Getting out almost killed him. Coming back would be impossible."

Antonio remembered his own miserable journey over the border into Sicily. He had to suppress a shudder at the memory.

Maria frowned and began to pace the room.

"Can you tell me where he is?"

"No, I'm sorry."

Maria stopped and walked back over to him.

"I could make you tell me," she whispered. "I could call in Caesar or Gabriele and have them put you back in that chair." She took a step closer. "I could make you tell me _everything_."

Anton swallowed. "But you won't."

He tried to make it sound like a statement but there was still a slight inflection at the end.

Maria stepped back, not quite smiling. "No, I won't. But I'll find out somehow. I don't like not knowing things."

"I'm sure when Lovino calls he'll tell you everything you need to know."

"_When_ will he be calling exactly?"

Antonio shrugged. "He didn't tell me. He just told me to give you the phone."

Maria sighed and walked over her desk. She suddenly slammed her hands down on the table, causing Antonio to jump.

"I hate this!" she seethed. "I hate it, I hate it!" She ran a hand through her hair. "How did it all end up so wrong? It makes no sense."

Antonio cleared his throat. "Maybe you could, uh, explain to me the current situation?"

"What did Lovino tell you?"

"Not much. He said something wasn't right in the city; it was if someone was trying to unite all the major families, which should be nearly impossible. He also mentioned something about their influence being too great and then something about his brother being trapped in Germany."

"You know most of it then. At least the big picture. The families are coming together, that is for certain. I still have trouble believing it. Some of these people have hated each other for decades. Their fathers hated each other, as did their grandfathers. And suddenly they are like brothers, working together, as if nothing in the past mattered. It's…unthinkable. I don't know why this is happening and I don't know who is behind it. The city has become more dangerous. The only people in the world I trust now are the people in this flat and Lovino." Maria glanced at Antonio. "And, perhaps in time, you yourself. However, what is most troubling at the moment is, as you have said, their influence. This is not the 1920s or the 1960s. The families have become weak over the years. They are still powerful, but not like they used to be. Which is why it's so hard to believe that they have the ability to effectively monitor the border of another _country_, to the point of keeping someone trapped there…" Maria shook her head. "The manpower it would take…the planning…no, the families don't—they _shouldn't_—have that kind of power…This…this going beyond Palermo. There is something _big_ at work here. It could even affect the whole continent." She looked up at Antonio and smiled. "You're pale. Are you going to be sick?"

"I might," Antonio admitted. "A few weeks ago, my biggest problem was trying to pay my rent. And now you tell me that the Mafia might be trying to take over the world. It's just a lot to take in."

"I understand. Although, I wouldn't say they plan to take over the world. That is a bit extreme."

"So, what do you going to do about it?"

"Fight back."

"B-But how?"

"Any way that I can. Whatever is going on, it started in this city. This is _my_ city. I was born and raised here. I will not let some nameless force take control of it. My team is small, yes, and our resources are limited; it's probably only a matter of time before we are discovered. But I'm not afraid to die."

The door suddenly swung open. In stepped a woman with curly brown hair and laughing dark eyes that turned cold when she saw Antonio.

Maria scowled. "Valentina, what are you doing here? I'm busy. Go, we will talk later."

The woman, Valentina, replied angrily in Italian. The conversation escalated quickly from there, until the two women were doing everything but openly screaming at each other. Antonio didn't have to guess who they were talking about; Valentina continuously gestured at him. Finally, Maria said something that made Valentina blanche. After throwing one last glare at Antonio, Valentina stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

"I'm sorry about that," Maria said. "Valentina is…difficult. Don't mind her, but I would keep your distance. She can be very…spontaneous."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"So, tell me Antonio, what are your plans now?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest. Lovino only sent me here to find you and deliver the phone. What I do now is my choice. I can go back home or…"

He couldn't stay. For weeks he had been telling himself that if...when he found Maria he would do what he had to do and then leave. It would be madness; it would be suicide, to stay. But, now that he had found her, how could he go back to working twelve hour shifts and dreaming of something he would never have?

"I would like it, if you would stay," Maria said. "I can't guarantee your safety. I can't even guarantee you'll live to the end of the day. But your help would be very much appreciated."

"How could I help? I can't even shoot a gun."

Maria smiled. "I'm sure we can find something for you to do."

Antonio made his decision. "I will stay…for now. At least until Lovino calls."

* * *

_It's Lovino who finds him the next time. Antonio is sitting in the sunroom, reading a book a coworker suggested, when his reclusive roommate walks in holding a piece of paper._

"_Tell me about Regina," Lovino says._

_Antonio freezes. He feels like he's been hit over the head with a brick._

"_E-Excuse me?" he manages to say._

_Lovino waves around the paper in his hands. "Your mother sent you a letter. She wants you to know that Regina and her husband are getting a divorce. She's happy that you didn't marry that quote unquote horrible, deviant woman after all."_

_Antonio's jaw drops. "Y-You…you…you read my mail?" he exclaims. "A-Aren't you the one who told me to stay out of your life? Now you're invading _mine_?"_

"_You're avoiding my original statement," is Lovino's only reply._

"_I'm avoid—wait, how did you even read that letter? You don't even speak Spanish!"_

"_Don't insult me. Now, I'll say it again. Tell me about Regina."_

_Antonio frowns. "It's a long story."_

"_Yes, ten years is a long time."_

_Antonio makes a choking noise. "H-How much did you read?" _

"_Enough. Did you really run away from home because you got your heartbroken? How...pathetic."_

"_I didn't run away!" Antonio snaps. "I just…needed some time to think."_

"_You needed ten years to think?"_

"_No! Look, I don't know what you read, but everything with Regina…it's done. I got over it a long time ago."_

"_Your mother doesn't think so."_

"_Well, she's wrong." Antonio stands up from the couch. "Can I have _my_ letter now?"_

_Lovino looks at him for a few seconds before handing over the letter._

"_Thank you," Antonio says, pocketing the letter._

_"What about the women in Parma? Or the man in Paris? The twins in Vermont? And that's just...what's that American saying? The tip of the iceberg?"_

_Antonio can't speak. He can barely breathe._

_"Don't look so surprised," Lovino says. "I had a background check done on you weeks ago. You are very... adventurous. What's interesting is that your relationships with all these people__—_and I use the word relationships very loosely_—_lasted at most a few weeks. Until the detective in London. What happened there?"

_Antonio is still trying to process the fact that Lovino did a background check on him._

_Lovino continues, "What exactly are you looking for?"_

_Antonio finally finds his voice. "I'm...I'm sorry, but you did a background check on me? How did you even-?"_

_"I know people."_

_"What type of people?"_

_"We're talking about you, not me."_

_"I don't want to talk about myself! I think we should talk about the fact that you keep stacks of money in your pillowcase!"_

_Lovino narrows his eyes. "You were in my room?" he hisses._

_"No, I saw one in the laundry room." Antonio says quickly. "...are you some kind of drug lord?"_

_"...not exactly."_

_"Not exactly? What the hell does that mean?" Antonio sighs. "Okay, enough secrets. Tell me who you are, now."_

_"First, tell me about Regina. And why you seem to determined to sleep with everyone you meet."_

_Antonio frowns. "I don't sleep with everyone I meet..."_

_"Could have fooled me. Now sit. Talk."_

_The look Lovino gives him tells Antonio that he won't take no for an answer. __Reluctantly, Antonio sits back down on the couch. Lovino pulls up a chair he takes from the table._

_"If I tell you this," Antonio says, "you'll tell me who you are?"_

_"Maybe."_

_"That's not fair!"_

_Lovino stands up from the chair. "When you're done whining, find me."_

_"Okay, okay! I'll tell you." Antonio fidgets in his seat. "...You know, to be honest, I don't even remember what Regina looks like. It's not her face I remember, it's what I could have had that I remember. Growing up I was told what I was supposed to want: pretty wife, a few kids, a nice house...and then when I was fourteen I realized I liked this pastor...I mean _really_ liked. After that I thought I would never be able to have what I was supposed to have, what I was supposed to want. And then I met Regina and suddenly there was a chance I_ could_ have all of that. There was a chance I could love someone without breaking my mother's heart. When Regina left__—_cheated on me, it ruined me. Partly because I did love her, and partly because I lost my chance at a normal life. I left home because I was angry and hurt and I couldn't even look my mother in the eye. I told her I was going to study at culinary schools and, even though I did take a few classes, mostly I worked as a waiter or did some other odd jobs. You asked me what I was looking for and I think I've been looking for a way to forget. I tried to forget, I did everything to forget, but no matter what I did, the memory of what I could never have was still there...is still there. Every time I traveled somewhere new and I met someone it always started good because I like people, it's easy for me to like people, but when it started to get serious, one way or another I would ruin it. I don't know why. And then I met Arthur..." Antonio frowned "...and...I'm not talking about Arthur. You can say or do whatever you want, I don't care. That's as much as I'll say."

_"I think you've said enough." Lovino leans back in his chair. "Wow, I don't think I've ever met someone so self-loathing. Well, except maybe for__—_" He frowns. "Nevermind. You'll do. You're not my first choice. You're not even my 100th choice. But you'll do."

_He stands up and starts walking back towards the door. Antonio scrambles off the couch._

_"You're just going to leave? After everything I just said? And what does "You'll do" mean?" he asks._

_Lovino reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cross necklace. He hands it to Antonio._

_"Hold on to this," he says._

_"Why?"_

_"I don't have time for stupid questions, just do it."_

_Antonio hesitates but then takes the necklace. It's pretty but simple; it looks old but it's still in good condition._

_"I'm not very religious," he says._

_"It doesn't matter. It's for luck." Lovino's cheeks pink. "L-Look...I get it, okay? I know what it's like to want something normal. To want someone—s-something you can't have. I think you're a pathetic moron but I get it. Which is why I need to ask you for your...cooperation."_

_"My cooperation?"_

_"Are you a parrot? Yes, your cooperation. I need you to do something for me."_

_"Wait, are you asking for my help?"_

_Lovino turns bright red. "N-No! I don't need help and if I did I wouldn't need it from someone like you! I just need your...cooperation. I have to find someone but I can't find them myself. It's...complicated. I need someone to hel—find them for me. And don't think I'm asking you because I like you or anything. I'm asking because...there's no one left."_

_For the first time, Antonio sees a glimpse of sadness on Lovino's face that isn't hidden behind the usual mask of anger or irritation A second later it's gone and Lovino is scowling at him once again._

_"So?" he asks._

_"So, what?"_

_Lovino groans. "Why have I been cursed with such an idiot? So, will you cooperate?"_

_"You mean help you?"_

_"No! I told you I don't need your help!"_

_"Look, before I help you or "cooperate", I need to know exactly what I'm getting into. Who exactly am I trying to find and why do you want to find them?"_

_"Why do you have to make this so complicated? Just say yes."_

_Antonio crosses his arms and waits. A minute passes before Lovino finally gives in._

_"Fine," he grumbles. "What do you know about the Sicilian Mafia?"_

* * *

Three days passed and Lovino had still yet to call. Antonio did his best to stay out of everyone's way, especially Valentina's. He spent most of his time in the room he'd been given, which was little bigger than a closet, or with Maria, who seemed to enjoy his company. He found Maria fascinating but unpredictable. Her mood seemed to be constantly fluctuating and he never knew if she would be happy or furious to see him. They spoke mostly about Antonio. Except for attending a boarding school in London, Maria had never been outside Italy, so she loved to listen to Antonio talk about the places he had been. They never spoke about herself or Lovino. Antonio had only dared to ask once. He had asked Maria why she had faked an elopement and run away from her family. She had looked at him for a long time and he had been about to apologize when she said,

"My brother."

She hadn't elaborated and Antonio hadn't pressed for details.

Every day he wondered if he had made the right decision in choosing to stay. He didn't know what he hoped to find in this run down flat in Palermo and maybe this was just him running away from his problems again but he felt that, if he was supposed to be anywhere in the world at that moment, it was there. He didn't know what he could do to help but, for some reason, he felt ridiculously optimistic about the future. This feeling lasted for all of five seconds, which was when the door to his room opened and Maria stepped in, her face pale and distraught. Antonio felt a sharp pain in his chest and knew what she would say before she said it.

She said the words and everything came crashing down.

* * *

**A/N:** I feel absolutely terrible for making you guys wait this long for a new chapter. I've been so busy with school lately. The semester is wrapping up but I don't know when I'll have the next chapter ready so please bear with me.

Also I just wanted to say a BIG thank you to all of you lovely readers. I hit 300 reviews sometime back and wow I never thought this story would get so much love :') Please know I read every single review and each one make me stupidly happy.

**Tiny preview for next chapter:** The title will be "Intermission: Part 2". Unfortunately (or fortunately?) it won't focus on Antonio and Lovino, but, like with this chapter, we'll get to see a few characters we haven't seen for awhile. Because I feel terrible about leaving this chapter on such a horrible cliffhanger, I'll say that one of these characters will be Austria/Roderich.

Thanks again for all the support!

-dancer


	16. Intermission: Part 2

**A/N:** Another short chapter. Next chapter should be back to the "standard size". Please enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

* * *

_Intermission:_

_Part 2_

_August 1st_

_Dear Roderich,_

_I'm sorry for not writing for so long. I hope my last letter didn't cause you to worry too much. I'm home now. As much as I would love to see you, please don't come here. I know you have questions, but I can't answer them. I'm sorry. I'll write again when I can._

_Best,_

_Elizabeta_

* * *

Someone knock on the door.

Elizabeta froze. She set down the book in her hand and stood up slowly. She wasn't expecting company. Her parents were on holiday in Greece, and Gilbert would have called. She suppressed the tremors that threatened to take over her and began to slowly move towards the stairs. Inwardly, she cursed herself for leaving her phone in her room.

The person at the door knocked again.

"Elizabeta?"

She gasped. She knew that voice. She ran to the front door and swung it open. Standing there with flowers and a small smile was Roderich.

"I know you told me not to—"

Elizabeta didn't wait for him to finish. She threw her arms around him. She could feel the tears coming and she pushed them back.

"I'm so glad you're here," she said quietly. "I missed you so much." She stepped back. "Please, come inside."

"Are your parents here?" Roderich asked as he walked inside the house.

Elizabeta closed the door behind him. "No, they're on holiday in Greece. They'll be back next week. It's just been me."

Her parents had left the day before she had arrived home. She had been upset, yet grateful. The last thing she had needed was her parents asking about the bruises on her face. Without thinking, she glanced at the mirror by the front door. The bruises were so faint now that you could only see them up close.

"How…how are you?" Roderich asked slowly.

Elizabeta shrugged. "Fine. I'm fine." Well, aside from the panic attacks, the insomnia, and, when she could fall asleep, the nightmares that featured bandaged men, and wolves with red eyes and mouths dripping blood.

"You look good."

Elizabeta gave him a small smile. "You've always been a terrible liar." She pointed at the flowers. "Are those for me?"

"O-Oh yes, I almost forgot. Here." Roderich handed her the bouquet. It was a small assortment of different types of flowers, some she knew, and some she didn't.

"Thank you. Would you like something to drink?"

"Water would be nice."

They walked silently to the kitchen. Elizabeta poured Roderich a glass of water and set it down on the table in front of him. For herself, she grabbed a carton of cigarettes and an ashtray.

"I know you hate when I smoke," she said as she sat down across from Roderich, "but it's just something I need to do right now." Before she had started her trip she had been close to quitting. Now, she was going through at least a pack a day. She hated herself for it, but when she was smoking she almost felt normal. Almost.

Roderich took a sip of water. "No, it's fine. Please, go ahead."

She smiled again and realized that this was the most she had smiled in the past three weeks.

"Thanks." She lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply. Almost instantly she felt a rush of relief. "So, while I'm happy to see you, I did tell you not to come. What are you doing here?"

"I needed to make sure you were alright."

"It's not up to you to take care of me."

"I am aware of that."

"And it's not safe for you to be here."

"And why is that?"

Elizabeta frowned and took another drag of her cigarette.

"Tell me about your musical festival," she said.

Roderich raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in subject, but went along nonetheless.

"Quite enjoyable. Although, there was a bit of a scandal near the end. Someone stole some instruments and even got away with a rare Chopin piece. I hope they do something about their security next year. How long have you been home?"

Elizabeta blew a cloud of smoke into the air. "Almost three weeks. I'm…I'm actually leaving tomorrow."

"To where?"

"It's probably best you don't know."

"Alright, well, when will you be back?"

"I can't tell you."

"Can't or won't?"

"A little of both," Elizabeta admitted.

"Why? I don't understand. Why do you insist on keeping secrets from me?"

"Because I'm trying to protect you."

"From what?"

Elizabeta shook her head. "Sorry. I can't."

Roderich sighed. "You're being incredibly frustrating right now. If you keep this up I'm going to need one of those death sticks soon. Is there anything you _can_ tell me?"

"Go home. Just forget about all this…and me."

Roderich narrowed his eyes. "What happened to you? You're not the person I said goodbye to at the train station."

Elizabeta stared at the table. When she spoke she stumbled over her word. "Look, I'll tell you this much. I'm…I'm in trouble. Big trouble. Maybe even the kind you don't walk away alive from." She peeked through her bangs at Roderich. Surprisingly, he still looked calm, if a little pale.

"…I see."

"That's all you're going to say?"

"What do you want me to say? Any suggestion I would propose you would instantly reject, no doubt," Roderich huffed.

Elizabeta smirked. "Sometime I forget how well you know me."

Roderich only frowned. "Does this trouble happen to involve your Italian…_friend_."

"Perhaps…yes."

"I was afraid something like this might happen."

"Please don't say 'I told you so'. I've heard it enough from Gilbert."

"I wasn't intending to. I am above such petty statements. If anything, I blame myself. I should have been more persistent when I first urged you to go to the police. So, I ask again, will you go to the authorities?"

"No, but not because I don't want to. I don't trust them."

"What does that mean?"

"I'd rather not say."

Roderich pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can you at least tell me if you have a plan to solve this trouble you're in."

"Gilbert's handling it."

"Wow, I feel so much better," Roderich said dryly.

"You should have more faith in him." When he had called the previous day, Gilbert hadn't told her anything about his plan, referring to it as a "surprise", but he had sounded confident about it.

"You make it sound so easy," Roderich said, almost smiling.

"I wish."

Roderich suddenly became serious once more. "So, what should I do?"

Elizabeta raised an eyebrow. "What? I already to you—"

"—to go home? To forget about everything? To forget about you? That's not very likely."

"It's for your own good."

"Why don't you let me worry about my 'own good'."

Elizabeta sighed. "This is why I didn't want you to come here."

"Well, I'm here now, so there's no point in saying such things."

"Look who's being frustrating now." Elizabeta dropped what was left of her cigarette in the ashtray and lit a second one. "The only thing I need you to do now is stay safe. You can't help me, Roderich. Not this time."

"And I suppose our correspondence is at an end?"

Elizabeta nodded. "It wouldn't be safe to keep sending letters."

Roderich said nothing. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and turned to stare out the window.

"You're angry with me," Elizabeta said.

"Of course I am!" Roderich snapped. "You tell me not to see you and when I do come, you tell me you're in trouble, yet you refuse to tell me of what nature. You refuse to go to the authorities—again for reasons you won't disclose—you refuse my help, and the only plan you have is the one being devised by your friend, which I shudder to contemplate." Roderich finally turned back to her and she felt a stab of pain in her chest when she saw the sad look in his eyes. "Finally…finally, you tell me that we can't even write to each other. You're so…why must you be so…you."

"I'm sorry." It was the only thing she could think to say.

"I know."

Silence descended on them. After a few minutes, Roderich stood up. He held out his hand.

"Let's go then," he said. The resignation was clear in his voice.

"Where?"

"Wherever you want."

Elizabeta smiled and took his hand.

…

The rest of their day was spent wandering the city. They bought cheap food, drank cheap beer, and loitered around crowded, overprice tourist traps. They slipped into one tour group and pretended to be surprised and amazed as the guide droned on about the city's history. They strolled through parks and museums and paid exorbitant fees for plastic souvenirs. The best part was, for a few hours Elizabeta was able to simply forget about the nightmare and the looming danger. Roderich brought her home just as the sun began to set.

"Are you sure you won't stay the night?" she asked.

"No, I mean yes, I mean…I should go," Roderich said.

Elizabeta nodded, but she didn't go inside.

"You should still write," she blurted. "The letters to me. You should still write them. Even if you can't send them. Write them and keep them for me. I'll write to you too. And, when we see each other again, we'll exchange them all. It'll be great."

"Alright then."

Elizabeta wrung her hands together and shifted from foot to foot. Her heart was beating almost frantically in her chest.

"I-I was in love with you for a long time," she said finally. "Even before we met, back when we were just two people writing letters for a school program. Your letters were always so beautiful and the language so eloquent and you…you just seemed so amazing. At first I thought it was just a stupid crush, but then we actually met and…I really loved you." Her face felt like it was on fire and she wondered if it was possible to pass out from embarrassment "I never said anything because I didn't think I had a chance. I mean, you're successful and accomplished, and the longest job I've ever had was as a babysitter. A-Anyway, I'm telling you all this now because I don't know when I'm going to see you again and I want…I _need _to know if you ever felt, even for a second, anything for me besides friendship."

Roderich gave her a sad smile. In the end, he chose to lie and it was _because_ he loved her that he did this. "I'm sorry, no," he said.

It had been some time since Elizabeta had let go of him, but it still hurt. She nodded and tried to smile. "Okay…thank you. That's all I needed to know." She straightened up and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I guess I'll see you around."

"_Aufwiedersehen_. Until we meet again."

* * *

It was Lili who met her at the door when Elizabeta arrived at Gilbert's house. Elizabeta was so surprised and happy to see that kind face, particularly after the somber nature of Roderich's departure, that she almost instantly hugged her.

"I wasn't expecting you!" Elizabeta said when she finally let go.

Lili brushed a blond curl out of her face. Her cheeks were pink and she smiled sweetly. "My brother has business in the city and he was kind enough to bring me along. He's upstairs with Gilbert and the others. We've been expecting _you_. There seems to be a great secret in this house and no one will tell me anything." Lili almost look sly as she spoke. "And they won't tell me anything about Ludwig's friend, Feliciano. I met him. He is very kind and…" Her cheeks turned even pinker. "W-Well, he told me he knows you, but wouldn't tell me how. Why all these secrets? I was hoping when you arrived you would be able to clear things up."

"I wish I could," Elizabeta said as they started towards the main stairs, "but trust me when I say that you're better off not knowing. I'm…in a little bit of mess right now."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine. I mean, it's not, but it will be." At least she hoped so.

Lili smiled again. "Don't worry, I'm sure, whatever it is, my brother and Ludwig will be able to fix things. Gilbert too."

"That's what I'm counting on. But, enough about me, how about you? How's school?"

"It's going very well. I'm on holiday right now, but we start again in a few weeks."

"How's Vivianne?"

"She's…Vivianne."

Elizabeta laughed. "Why am I not surprised?"

They had reached the top of the stairs and they both turned at the sound of footsteps. Around the corner came Lovino. Elizabeta blinked and took a deep breath. No, not Lovino. Feliciano. It was amazing how alike they looked. Feliciano's face lit up when he saw her and then she thought, _"No, they're not that similar actually. They have different smiles."_

Feliciano ran towards her and threw his arms around her, nearly knocking her over.

"It's good to see you too," she said breathlessly.

"Oh, Elizabeta, I'm so sorry for everything. This is all my fault!" Feliciano said sadly when they moved apart.

"What? How is any of this your fault?"

"I was the one who told you about Lovino and the Family."

"Yes, but _I_ was the one who decided it was my job to save him."

"But—"

Elizabeta held up a finger. "No buts. I got myself into this mess—"

"—and I will be getting you out of it," said a voice she knew all too well. She looked up to see Gilbert coming down the hall, followed closely by Ludwig and Vash.

"And how do you plan to do that?" she asked.

"Well, first—"

"Gilbert, shut your mouth," Vash snapped. "Not another word. Not while my sister is still here. Good to see you again, Elizabeta."

"Same to you, Vash. Hello, Ludwig."

"Hello, again," Ludwig said.

"He knows, by the way." Gilbert piped up. "About everything. Vash does too. Sorry, Liz, I needed a few strings pulled."

Elizabeta cringed. "It's fine," she said weakly. No doubt both Ludwig and Vash thought she was a complete idiot now.

As if he could read her mind, Gilbert patted her on the shoulder and said, "Don't worry. They don't think you're a complete idiot. Maybe half an idiot though."

"That's enough, Gilbert," Ludwig snapped. "No one thinks you're an idiot, Elizabeta."

She beamed. "Thank you."

"I would like to stay and catch up, but my sister and I have a lunch appointment," Vash said. "I don't really need to be here anyway. Everything is in order. They'll explain it."

"Oh, well, thank you," Elizabeta said.

Vash raised an eyebrow. "You don't even know what I did."

"Still, thank you. Whatever you did, you didn't have to do it."

Vash made a dismissing gesture. "It was nothing. If you would like, consider this repayment for helping out my sister. Anyway, I've been bailing Gilbert out of bigger problems since he was 12."

"Um, no. I was never in this much trouble," Gilbert said.

"Really? Remember Argentina?"

Gilbert actually blushed. Elizabeta made a mental note to pursue this topic later.

"Exactly," Vash said. "Come on, Lili. We don't want to be late."

"I'll see you later, Elizabeta." Lili called over her shoulder. "Bye everyone!"

When Vash and Lili had gone, Elizabeta turned to face the three men in front of her. She crossed her arms over her chest. "So, what's this big plan?" she asked.

"Let's talk in the East Study." Gilbert said.

"I agree," Ludwig said.

Elizabeta started to follow him and Feliciano towards what she assumed was the East Study when Gilbert pulled her back.

"What?" she asked.

"Wow, hello to you, Liz. I haven't seen you in three weeks. Where's my hug?"

"Well I—"

"Save it, I don't even want it anymore." He gave her a once over. "You look…better."

"You mean I don't look like I got hit by a bus."

"Yes. You look halfway decent, really."

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "I missed your charming compliments."

"I missed your sarcasm."

"And what about you? How have you been?"

"Awesome. What else would I be?"

"Gilbert, be serious. _How_ are you?"

"I really don't know, Liz. I got kidnapped by a psychopathic serial killer, beat up, and nearly died. How do you want me to be?" He was still smiling but there was a hard edge to his voice, and there was a mix of anger and fear in his eyes.

A wave of guilt washed over Elizabeta. "I'm so sorry, Gilbert," she said quietly.

Gilbert examined his fingernails. "Whatever. I just don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good!" Almost instantly, Gilbert was his normal self again. "Do me a favor, would you?" He pointed down the hall. "What do you see?"

"What type of question is this?"

"Just answer it."

"I see Ludwig and Feliciano."

"Exactly! It's been horrible, Liz. I think Ludwig actually likes him."

"And your point?"

"Ludwig doesn't like people! He scowls at them. He doesn't even like _me_ half the time!"

"I wonder why…"

"Liz, I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation. Feliciano follows my brother everywhere. They talk and do things together like…eat dinner and laugh. They're…they're…"

"Friends?"

"No! They can't be friends! Feliciano is _my_ friend and...and...Ludwig doesn't like people! He doesn't have friends and he definitely doesn't laugh."

"I think you're being a bit overdramatic, Gilbert."

"Why are you two just standing there?" Feliciano called from the end of the hall.

"We'll continue this discussion later," Gilbert said.

"I can't say I'm looking forward to it," Elizabeta replied.

She followed him into what looked like a meeting room. In the middle of the room was a large, polished wooden table. They all sat down except Gilbert, who strode to the front of the room.

"We are gathered here today—okay I'll stop. West, you can stop glaring at me like that. But seriously now. Shit just hit the fan. I'll do a quick recap of the past 48 hours for you, Liz. How do I start? Okay, well, Lovino's gone."

Elizabeta felt the blood drain from her face. "What do you mean by gone?" she asked slowly.

"Like, he's gone? As in he's not where he should be? As in we don't know where he is? We are 95% sure he's alive though. Okay, maybe 94%."

"Perhaps it would be better to start at the beginning of the story," Ludwig said.

"I was getting there," Gilbert said. "So, taking it from the top. Antonio started working with Lovino and ended up in Palermo looking for this chick called Maria, who just happens to be Alessandro's sister. Crazy, right? She's not crazy though. Okay, maybe a little, but not like her brother. She's actually on our side, uh Lovino's side. Whatever, you get the point. Anyway, Antonio found Maria and then Lovino called them on this secret cellphone or something and said—this is a direct quote, just so you know—"Time's up", which is apparently mafia code for "there are people coming to kill me and I need to get out of here ASAP". So yeah, Lovino's flown the coop."

"I'm confused," Elizabeta said, still trying to process everything she was hearing. "How did you find all this out?"

"Antonio called two days ago. Apparently Lovino gave him an in-case-of-emergency number, which turned out to be the number to Feliciano's cellphone. Very convenient if I do say so myself."

"Where is Antonio now?"

"Still in Palermo. Believe it or not it's probably the safest place for him at the moment."

"I see." A million and one thoughts were racing through Elizabeta's head. She didn't know whether to start screaming or lie down on the floor. "And we have no idea where Lovino is?"

"Feliciano has a guess," Gilbert said. They all turned to look at Feliciano.

"I think my brother might have gone to Texas."

Elizabeta's mouth fell open. "Texas? Texas in the U.S.A Texas?"

"Liz, I think there's only allowed to be one Texas. It's like an international law," Gilbert said.

"But why _Texas_?"

"I don't have any real reason except that I just think that's where he would go," Feliciano said.

Elizabeta looked at Gilbert, who only shrugged. Ludwig was quiet in his chair.

"Feliciano, on a scale of one to ten, one being not confident at all and ten being completely confident, how sure are you that your brother is in Texas?" she asked.

"Hmm, probably a six."

"Okay…Well, I guess—"

"No need to say another word, Liz. We are all very aware of what you're going to say. Although I highly advise against this decision, and think it's stupid as fuck, I know you're not going to change your mind because that's just who you are." Gilbert reached into his coat pocket and pulled out what looked like a small blue booklet. "Here. It's the first part of plan 'Red, White, and Awesome'." He slid the booklet across the table to Elizabeta.

She opened it and gasped. "You have got to be kidding me."

* * *

_August 13th_

_Dear Elizabeta,_

_Part of me thinks this is ridiculous, writing a letter with no intention to send it. But you asked it of me, so I shall do it. The problem now is that I don't quite know what to say. Perhaps I'll think of something later..._

_Sincerely__,_

_Roderich_

* * *

**A/N:** Next chapter is the official start of Part 2 of this story. Basically, this is when the central plot really kicks off. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews and support. I couldn't have gotten this far without you guys.

Also, and I add this here because it actually confused me for a few seconds, but the date of Elizabeta's and Roderich's letters are not when the events in a chapter are taking place. The letters are usually written after (although not in this chapter, at least for Liz's letter). I know I mentioned it before but I wanted to say it again because dates and the timeline are very important in this story and sometimes I get confused and I would hate for you guys to get confused too :)

One last thing, because I love giving hints, the title of the next chapter is **"Meet Olivia and Jaime Brunn"**. Make of it what you will. I'm finally done with school so it's shouldn't take me too long to write. Hopefully.

That's all for now!

-dancer


	17. Meet Olivia and Jaime Brunn

**A/N: **Thanks for all the lovely reviews! You guys always make me so happy! Please enjoy the chapter!

* * *

_August 20th_

_Dear Roderich,_

_I'm writing this to you on my break. I only have a few minutes left so I have to be brief. I'm in the USA right now, specifically in the state of Texas. I thought the saying that everything was bigger here was an exaggeration, but everything really is bigger. Yesterday I ordered a small drink at a restaurant and they gave me what would probably be a large at home. The cars are bigger, the stores are bigger, even the people are bigger. I don't know why I'm telling you these things, but I hope you find them as amusing as I do. I have to go now, my boss is calling me._

_Elizabeta_

* * *

**Meet Olivia and Jaime Brunn**

The alarm clock starts ringing at 6:30. Olivia counts to ten before she hits the snooze button. Yawning, she rolls out of bed. She walks past her brother's room on her way to the bathroom. Jaime remains dead to the world, his head buried beneath pillows, his soft snores the only sound in the apartment. It takes Olivia half an hour to get ready. Before she leaves she checks that her brother's alarm is set and then adds a second one, just in case. It's only 7:00, but when she steps outside it's already in the low 70s, an indication that it will be another sweltering day. The bus stop is less than a five minute walk from the tiny apartment complex she lives in with her brother. The bus is just pulling up when she arrives and she hurries to join the already long line. She spends the next 45 minutes staring out the window at the seemingly endless Texan landscape.

The diner at which she works is one of those places that seems small and old and insignificant on the outside, especially when compared to the various multi-million dollar establishments surrounding it, yet the parking lot is always full, from opening to close. She arrives ten minutes before the start of her shift. She says goodbye to Ella, the woman who works the shift before her, and then quickly changes into her uniform. Olivia does a quick check of her appearance before she steps outside. Her bleach-blond hair is cropped short and styled into a bob. Her dark blue eyes are heavily lined with black eyeliner. She often wonders if her boss was a hippie once upon a time since he has no problem with her wearing her nose ring during work, along with the piercings that cover the expanse of both her ears. Her uniform is simple, a white polo top emblazoned with the name of the diner on the back, and black shorts. The regulations _suggest_ that she wear white tennis shoes but she's never without her ankle high black boots. She adds a quick swipe of dark red lipstick before exiting the restroom and officially starting her day.

It's Monday so she works from 8 A.M to 4 P.M. Already, despite the early hour, the diner is packed full. There are the usual: the construction workers, the truck drivers, the nurses from the hospital nearby, the stay at home moms, the corporate executives in their Armani suits and $200 haircuts. And then there are the new faces: the middle-aged man squinting at the menu through oversized glasses, the two teenage girls who peer around nervously, the tired looking couple with three kids who are probably passing through on some hellish family vacation. It's a living, breathing, squirming sea of humanity. Olivia lets out a deep breath and plunges into the fray.

You can tell a lot about someone by the way they treat their server. Olivia has learned this first-hand. She tries not the snap when a businessman complains about how cold the coffee is, or when the three roof repairmen take it upon themselves to loudly comment on how well her shorts fit her. It's not all bad, however. She loves to listen to the nurses as they tell her stories about patients trying to steal morphine off carts and asshole surgeons; or laugh with the moms who regale her with tales of their children eating everything from glue to wallpaper. The truck drivers always tip well. Teenagers rarely tip, if at all. It's an exhausting and extremely demanding job, but sometimes Olivia loves it.

At 10:00, Ashley Yi arrives. Ashley is sixteen and has been working as a hostess at the diner for the past two summers. She has long black hair that is usually bound tight in a ponytail. She's very tall, with a cute, round face, and what would most likely be described as a "bubbly" personality.

"Olivia, look what I got!" she squeals, holding up her wrist. On her tanned skin is a tattoo of a pair of angel wings. "Do you think Jaime will like it?"

Along with a penchant for gossip, Ashley has a very obvious crush on Olivia's brother. Olivia thinks it's sweet but in vain. While Jaime seems to like Ashley as co-worker, his romantic interests lie…elsewhere.

Still, Olivia gives Ashley a bright smile and says, "I'm sure he'll love it."

Ashley bounces happily from foot to foot before she is called away to seat the couple who has just come into the diner.

Two hours later, Olivia is returning to the kitchen after delivering to the woman at table 3 her third order of chocolate cake, when she is stopped by Louis Franklin, the manager. Louis is in his late 50s and completely bald. No one knows just how long he has been working at the diner. He has a gruff and intimidating manner but, according to Ashley, he can be a real softy at times. He doesn't look soft now. He glares angrily down at Olivia, a clipboard gripped tightly in one hand.

"It's past noon, Olivia. Where's your brother?" he barks.

Olivia checks her watch and groans. He's right. Jaime is late. _Again_.

"I don't know, Louis. I even set two alarms today!"

Of all his current employees, Louis seems to particularly dislike Jaime. Yet, despite the number of times Olivia's brother has been late, Louis keeps giving him second chances.

"You call him right now and tell him that if he doesn't get his ass down here in the next hour he's fired!"

"Who's fired?" asks a voice behind them. Olivia and Louis both turn to see Jaime standing there in full uniform, mop in hand.

Louis' face turns an angry shade of red. "When did you get here, Brunn?"

"Um, an hour ago?"

"Really? Where were you?"

"…in the back?"

From the look on Louis' face it's clear that he doesn't believe him. At that moment, Jack Stevens, the cook, pokes his head out from behind the kitchen doors.

"Leave the kid alone, Franklin," Jack says. "He was helping me unload some boxes from the delivery truck."

"I didn't hear a delivery truck," Louis snaps.

"You might, if you didn't spend all your time locked in your office looking at internet porn."

Jaime snorts. Olivia has to cover her mouth with a hand to hide her smile. Louis turns an even darker shade of red. He splutters something incomprehensible before stomping off.

"You owe me, kid," Jack says to Jaime before vanishing back into the kitchen.

Olivia crosses her arms and glares at her brother, who is still fighting back laughter. "So, where were you really?"

"Uh, there was traffic?" Jaime gives her a sheepish smile and brushes a strand of blond hair out of his face. Olivia's been told more times than she would like that her brother is attractive. She doesn't really see it. Jaime is tall, with shaggy dark blond hair and, according to Ashley, "stunning" blue eyes. He has a lip ring in the bottom right corner of his mouth and tattoos up and down his arms. He wears an assortment of rings on his fingers that he changes every day. He works as a cleaner at the diner and somehow manages to be late half the time.

Olivia raises an eyebrow. "Traffic? You're really going to give me that excuse?"

"Come on, Liv. I've already got Franklin on my ass. I don't need you hassling me too."

"I set two alarms, Jaime. Two!"

"Next time set three."

Olivia rolls her eyes and strides off to the kitchen to place an order for table 5.

When 4 P.M finally rolls around, Olivia changes out of her uniform and hurries out the door as fast as she can. She slows down long enough to say a quick goodbye to Jaime, who's working until 7, and an equally quick hello to Alfred Jones, who works the shift after her. Some days she goes straight home, others she stops off at the store to buy a few things for the apartment. Once she's back home, she takes a quick shower, throws on clean clothes, and is out the door again. She takes the bus to the next city and gets on another bus there. She rides that bus until it arrives at a city she's never been to. Sometimes she'll get off the bus at a city she's been and take a bus from there to somewhere new. Once she finds a place she likes she'll walk around for an hour or so before settling onto a park bench or in a coffee shop next to the window. For the next few hours she just watches the people walk by and lets the world pass around her. She doesn't return home until nearly midnight. Usually, Jaime is already asleep in bed. Olivia only has enough energy to fall onto her bed and turn off the lights.

And this is the life of Olivia Brunn.

…

"What happened to you today?" Elizabeta kicked off her boots by the front door. "You disappeared after three."

Gilbert was stretched out on the couch watching one of the procedural cop dramas he had become obsessed with. "Stomachache. Louis let me leave early. I think he's into me. It's really gross."

Elizabeta eyed the bucket of popcorn on Gilbert's lap as she passed him. "Stomachache, huh? Honestly, would it kill you, _Jaime_, to work a full day?"

"I don't know, _Olivia_. Maybe. Working is stupid. I still don't get why we're slaving away at that dump. We don't exactly need the money."

"It helps us fit in." Elizabeta flipped on the bathroom light. She looked exhausted. She removed the fake nose ring and the rest of the fake jewelry in her ears. "And it helps us learn more about American culture. Yes, I know it's tiring, but I think it's kind of fun sometimes." Next, she removed the color contacts she had come to hate and then scrubbed the dark make-up off her face. Before she left the bathroom, she checked to make sure her roots weren't showing. She guessed she could go at most another week before she would have to dye her hair again. When she walked back into the living, she found Gilbert hadn't moved an inch. She threw herself down next to him on the couch and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

"If you call cleaning toilets fun." Gilbert muttered. Elizabeta noticed that while he had taken out his lip ring, he had kept the rings on his fingers. They seemed to be his favorite part of his disguise.

"It's not my fault that was the only position left when you applied. By the way, are you aware that Ashley has a massive crush on you?"

Gilbert groaned. "Yes. How could I not? Did you know she got a tattoo because of me?"

"Her parents are going to freak. Hopefully, she never finds out that yours are temporary."

"I mean, I'm used to people doing crazy things for me, and I don't really blame them, but no one's ever gotten a tattoo in my honor. It's kind of awesome though."

"You need to talk to her and set things straight. She's a really sweet girl and it's not fair of you to lead her on like this."

"I'm not leading her on! I can't help it if people see me and instantly fall in love."

Elizabeta threw a piece of popcorn at his head. "Talk to her tomorrow. Be honest, but don't make her cry."

"I'll just be like, 'Hey Ashley, you're really nice and all but if I have sex with you I'll get thrown in jail. Also, I like dick. Bye.'"

"You are so smooth," Elizabeta said dryly.

"Just another one of my various talents. So, any luck locating our third favorite Italian?"

Elizabeta sighed. "No—wait, what do you mean 'third favorite'?"

"Number one is Feliciano, number two is Mario."

"Are you serious—whatever!" Elizabeta picked at a tear in the couch. "Maybe I'll have better luck tomorrow."

"You know what I think?"

"Actually, yes, but please go on because I know you're going to say it whether I want to listen or not."

"Being here is a mistake. Even if Lovino is here, and that's a big fucking if, this state is huge and he could be anywhere. You can't check every single town. We could be here for months, maybe years."

Elizabeta kept her temper in check. "So, what do you suggest we do? Leave? Coming here was _your_ idea. You're the one who came up with the plan Red, White, and Whatever."

"Red, White, and Awesome."

"I don't care. It was your idea to get the fake passports, the fake birth certificates, the fake everything. You made me dye my hair this disgusting color!"

"It's not that bad. Anyway, it might have been my plan but you would have ended up here one way or the other. You just can't let him go, can you, Liz? Are you in love with him or something?"

"W-What? No!" Elizabeta knew her face was bright red. "Of course not! Don't say stupid things like that. This is about more than Lovino's safety. It's about Feliciano. It's about us. Have you forgotten that we're being hunted by someone who's call the Big Bad Wolf?"

"Don't you mean _you're_ being hunted?"

"No, _we._ You're my best friend, Gilbert. We go everywhere together. We do almost everything together. You really think whoever is after me is going to let you off free of charge?"

"That's what I was hoping for."

"I doubt your brother and Vash would have helped pay for all of this if they didn't think you were in danger too."

"That's what you think. They did all of this because of you."

"No, they didn't. They're my friends, but you're their family. All of this was for your sake as much as it was for mine. Probably more, actually. Anyway, if Ludwig didn't care about your safety, why would he ask me to watch out for you?"

"Maybe he wanted you keep me from having too many threesomes?"

"Shut up and admit that your brother loves you and he's worried about you."

"Ew, no," Gilbert said, but he was smiling.

"Give me three more weeks. If I can't find Lovino by then we'll go back to Berlin and see if Feliciano has any other ideas about where he might be."

Gilbert seemed to think about it for a bit before he finally said, "Fine. Three weeks and that's it." He ran a hand through his hair. "Looks like I'm going to be blond for a little longer."

"It's still weird to see you like this. I don't think I could ever get used to it."

"Speak for yourself. Can I at least quit that job?"

"No."

* * *

Elizabeta glanced up from her book to look out the window. The scene in front of her hadn't changed at all since she had last checked two minutes earlier. She sighed and set the book in her hand down. She was feeling more impatient today than usual. She wondered if it had anything to do with the talk she'd had with Gilbert a few days earlier. She would be lying if she said she wasn't getting frustrated with her search effort. She knew finding Lovino would be difficult, but now it seemed just short of impossible. Not only was Texas a larger than life state, but Lovino was better at hiding than most. And she wasn't the Mafia; she didn't have the skills to track him down.

"Where are you, you idiot?" she said to herself.

"Olivia? What are you doing here?"

Elizabeta's head snapped up. Smiling down at her was Alfred, her co-worker from the diner. She forced a smile and hoped it concealed the extent of her shock. She was sitting in a coffee shop in a town over 40 miles from where the diner was located; the last thing she had expected was to run into someone she knew from work. "Hey! I'm…I'm just…reading," she answered lamely. She didn't know Alfred very well. He worked more shifts with Gilbert and they seemed to get along really well. She'd been a little jealous at first that Gilbert had made a friend so fast, but then she had reminded herself that she wasn't there to make friends. "What are you doing here? And what's with the outfit?"

"Oh, this?" Alfred glanced down at the strange clothes he was wearing. "You mean you don't recognize it?"

"No, I'm sorry."

Alfred looked almost offended. "You don't have Captain America in Germany?"

"I'm not sure. Who is he?"

"Only one of the most awesome superheroes ever! Wow, I can't believe you don't know who he is! I'll bring in some of his comics to work on Monday. Anyway, I'm here for the Con."

"The Con? What is that?"

"It stands for convention. It's like a gathering of people with similar interests. It's really fun. They have this huge one in San Diego every year, but I've never been able to afford to go. You can meet your favorite celebrities there and go to the panels for your favorite shows, it's awesome!"

Elizabeta wondered if Alfred had started to pick up on Gilbert's lingo. "And does everyone have to dress up like this?"

"No, but a lot of people do. Have you really never been to a Con?" She shook her head. "That's so sad. You should totally come with me when I head back then! I only came here to get a sandwich."

"That's very kind of you but…" Elizabeta trailed off when she saw some of the light go out of Alfred's face. Why _couldn't_ she go with him? Her chance of finding Lovino that day was the same it was every day, which was next to nothing. She'd been in the U.S for a few weeks already and when she wasn't working or buying things for the apartment, she was traveling across the state looking for someone she might never find. Why shouldn't she have a little fun? At least just this once. "Actually, sure, why not?"

"Awesome!" Alfred was more or less glowing. "You're not going to regret this! I wish Jaime didn't have to work today. He would have loved this." Elizabeta had no idea if Gilbert knew who Captain America was, but this Con sounded like something he would be into. "Let me just get my sandwich and then we can go." Elizabeta watched him leave with a strange, light-hearted feeling. She realized that it was anticipation. She hadn't been excited about something in a long time. True, she knew nothing about conventions, but if it was anything like Arthur had described, she was sure she would enjoy it. Alfred returned a few minutes later carrying a large brown paper bag. "I couldn't decide which one I wanted so I got both," he said. Elizabeta couldn't help but smile.

The Con was located in a building across the street. "Hey Chris, she's with me," Alfred said to the doorman when they reached the front doors.

Chris grinned. "No problem, Al." He stepped aside and let them through.

The scene inside the building was one Elizabeta had never witnessed in her life. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people were walking around, some, like her, dressed in casual clothes, but the vast majority was dressed in costumes like Alfred.

"Are all these people dressed like characters from Captain America?" she asked.

Alfred shook his head. "No, they're from all kinds of stuff. Like that group over there." He pointed to a group of people wearing what looked like medieval clothing. "They're dressed up like the dwarves from The Hobbit. And that guy over there, the one wearing the bomber jacket? That's Alex, he's like me and comes here every year. He's cosplaying as a character from this manga series. I can't remember the name now but I think it's got something to do with countries. It sounded weird."

"Wow, this is really interesting."

"Isn't it? The cosplay contest should be starting soon."

"Are you also here with a group?"

"No, not this year," Alfred said sadly. "My friend busted his leg last week and his girlfriend won't let him leave the house. Sometimes my brother comes with me, but he couldn't get off work."

"Where does he work?" Elizabeta faintly remembered Gilbert mentioning something about a brother in Canada.

"At a veterinary clinic in Toronto. He loves animals. There's even this bear at the zoo near his house that he unofficially adopted."

"Really? That's so cool. Is your brother in school for veterinary medicine?"

"Not yet, but that's the plan. He's been saving up money and I think he's going to apply next year."

Elizabeta was just about to ask about Alfred's own plan when someone bumped into her from behind. She turned around and gasped as something cold and wet splashed across her chest. She looked down and saw a bright blue stain spreading down her yellow dress.

"Oh, shit! I'm so sorry!" The man in front of her was holding an empty cup that had been full of what she assumed was now on her dress. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I can pay for that."

"It's fine. It was an accident," Elizabeta said, trying to hide her embarrassment. "Is there a restroom around here?"

Alfred nodded. "Yeah, you see those blue doors at the back? Go through there, turn right, and then go through the door at the end of the hall. You're going to have to cross the loading dock. There's a door on the other side. Go through that and then turn left. The bathrooms are there. I can take you if you want."

"No, it's fine. I'm pretty sure I can find it. Thanks." She hurried off. Some people stared as she ran past and she almost laughed at the irony. The blue doors led to a long grey corridor. She walked past multiple doors and wondered what this building was for when it wasn't being used to host a Con. When she opened the door at the end of the hallway, she was greeted with the noise of a delivery truck backing into the loading dock. She spotted the door on the other side and half-ran towards it. As she passed the delivery truck, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man step down from the driver's side. He wore dark sunglasses and a baseball hat that was turned backwards. He had shoulder-length brown and a thin-trimmed mustache. Elizabeta was suddenly struck with the feeling that she knew him. However, when she paused to get a better look at the man, he was already walking towards the building. For a split second she was tempted to go after him, but then she shook her head. "No, you're being paranoid," she said to herself. Still, when she reached the door on the other side of the loading dock, she checked behind her to make sure that she wasn't being followed. There was no one there, but, for some reason, this didn't make her feel any better.

When she finally reached the restroom and saw herself in the mirror, she realized that there was little she could do. The stain had spread down the front of her dress and she doubted hand soap and warm water was enough to get it out. She did the best she could with what was the available, but ten minutes later the stain was still there. She thought about the long bus ride back to her apartment and grimaced. It was going to be a mortifying two hours. Sighing, she picked up the pile of crumpled paper towels on the sink counter and tossed them in the trash. She left the restroom and started heading back. She would have to tell Alfred that she couldn't stay. As much as she wanted to, she hated the thought of having to walk around for the next few hours in the stained, and now slightly sticky, dress. She crossed the loading dock quickly, keeping an eye out for the delivery man from before, but he was nowhere to be found. She was walking down the grey corridor when the delivery man came through the blue doors. He had taken his sunglasses off and when his green eyes met hers they widened. She gasped and her hands flew to her mouth, holding back the scream that threatened to break free. Lovino put a finger to his lips and gestured that she should follow him. He opened the door to one of the rooms and she followed him inside. It was a small conference room; there was even a half-empty box of doughnuts on the table. But Elizabeta noticed none of this. She was too focused on Lovino, who was locking the door behind them.

She finally uncovered her mouth, but no sound came out. Her heart was racing and she couldn't tell if she was scared, angry, or happy to see him. Probably a mix of all three. Lovino turned back to her and she realized that even with all the changes, she would have known him anywhere. She was sure that this went both ways.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Lovino hissed. He looked furious.

Elizabeta finally found her voice. "Looking for you! Oh gosh, what—what are you doing _here?_"

He ignored the question. "Looking for me? Are you serious? Do you remember anything I told you the last time we spoke? I told you to stay away from me! I don't want anything to do with you! Damn it! Why are you so…so obsessed with me?"

The initial shock had melted away and Elizabeta felt a surge of anger. "Obsessed with you? You…you are the stupidest person alive! Not everything is about you! Do me a favor and get your head out of your ass for five minutes, okay? Yes, I'm here because of you but that's not the only reason. Remember Feliciano, your brother who is sick with worry about you? Who can't even leave fucking Berlin because he might get captured but still wanted to come over here and look for you? Have you forgotten the promise I made to him to bring you home? Well I haven't. I'm here for him too. But I'm also here for me. Do you know Lavinia Crewe?"

Lovino looked thrown by the question. "I—what?"

"Lavinia Crewe. Have you heard the name before?"

"No…wait, yes. I have, but I don't remember where. Who is she? What does she have to do with any of this?"

"A few weeks ago I was in England and Lavinia was involved in this…case I was working on. It's a long story. Anyway, up until recently Lavinia was—involuntarily—part of a world-wide drug smuggling operation. She had contacts from all over the world, including Italy. She told me that one of her Italian contacts had mentioned me and told her to give me a message. "_Non c'è rosa senza spine_". What does it mean?" Lovino had gone pale. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"Yes. I don't know what the message means exactly, but I don't have to. You're being hunted."

"By the Big Bad Wolf?"

"Who?"

"The Big Bad Wolf. Both Lavinia and Moran mentioned him."

"Moran?"

"This serial killer. But that's not important. You don't know who the Wolf is?"

"I—No. I don't who that is."

Elizabeta narrowed her eyes. He was lying. Even if he didn't know for certain who the Wolf was, he definitely had a guess. Elizabeta would let it slide for now, but they would talk about it later. "I thought if I could find you, you could explain what everything meant. Some help you turned out to be," she said bitterly. "And what the hell is up with that mustache? It makes you look gross."

Lovino scowled. "I could say the same thing about your hair! Are those piercings real?"

"No, they're all fake. It was all Gilbert's idea!"

"He's here too? Hm, why am I not surprised? How did you even know where to look for me?"

"Your brother. Antonio told him that you were gone and he guessed you would be here." Something flashed across Lovino's face. It looked like the beginnings of a smile, but it was gone so fast that Elizabeta couldn't be sure.

"That idiot. Why can't he ever keep his mouth shut?"

"He was just trying to help."

"I don't want anyone's help!"

"Sorry, but you don't have a choice anymore. We're all being hunted now. You, me, and most likely Gilbert as well. Our best chance of survival is sticking together."

"Absolutely not. We'll just end up dead sooner."

"Maybe, maybe not. Whatever the case, I'm not letting you just run off again. You can say all the mean things you want, it won't matter to me. If you even _think_ about leaving, I will know. I will break both your legs and chain you to a chair. Do. Not. Test. Me. You have no idea what I've been through since Tenerife."

"What _have_ you been through?" Lovino asked quietly.

Elizabeta twirled a strand of blond hair around her finger. "Oh, you actually care?"

"O-Of course not! Why should I care about you? It's not like you give a shit about what I've been going through."

"Of course I do! Why would you think that? I—"

"Atchoo!"

Elizabeta froze and Lovino's eyes narrowed. Neither of them had sneezed. The sound had come from under the table. Lovino zipped down his jacket and pulled out a gun. "Whoever, you are, come out now." He said. "I have a gun so don't try anything stupid."

"Please don't shoot me!" Said a familiar voice. "I'm only 21!" To Elizabeta's surprise, out from under the table crawled Alfred.

"Alfred? What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I was looking for you!" he said. "I thought you might have gotten lost. I was coming to find you and I saw this door was open and saw the doughnuts on the table. I was only going to eat one but then I heard voices and hid under the table. I just didn't want to get in trouble."

"Elizabeta, who the fuck is this?" Lovino asked.

"A friend. He won't do anything. You can put your gun down." For once, he listened to her. He lowered his gun but didn't look away from Alfred. Elizabeta turned back to Alfred, who was beginning to fidget. "You heard everything, didn't you?"

"M-Maybe. But most of it didn't make any sense and I'm not going to tell anyone, I swear!"

"Well, that's not a risk I'm willing to take," Lovino said. His gun was raised once more and Elizabeta heard the sound of the safety being clicked off. Alfred paled and backed up against the wall. "Now, let's go."

…

"So, what now?"

"You know what we have to do."

Elizabeta's mouth fell open. "You can't be serious! He's just a kid!"

"I was younger than him when I first started working for Lima."

"But it's not fair!"

Lovino stared at her. "What about any of this is fair?"

"I just can't do this okay? I can't kidnap someone."

"You just did!"

"You were the one waving the gun around! And you practically threw Alfred into the back of your truck!"

"I did not!"

"Yes, you did!" Elizabeta sighed and rubbed her temples. "Look, I'm not going to stand here and argue with you. We need a plan. One that doesn't involve kidnapping anyone."

"What else are we supposed to do with him? Leave him here? He knows too much. Do you know what will happen if they catch him?" Lovino didn't have to clarify who "they" were. "He will be tortured until he tells them what he knows. How long do you think he'll last? I give him ten minutes."

"There has to be another way."

"Well, there isn't!"

"I won't accept that. I'm going to go out there and talk to him because he's probably scared out of his mind. You stay here and think of an alternative solution to this problem." Elizabeta stormed out of the room before Lovino could reply. She made her way down the hallway to the sitting room. Alfred was sitting on the floor next to the couch; one arm was handcuffed to the radiator. He was still wearing his Captain America outfit. Elizabeta sat down beside him. "Hey."

"Hey."

"I'm sorry about all of this. I know I keep saying that but I really am."

Alfred shrugged. "It's not your fault. Your boyfriend is kind of nuts, though."

"He's not my boyfriend. And he's not nuts, he's just…well, he's been through a lot. I admit the handcuffs were a bit much."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Just a bit?"

"I'm sorry." Elizabeta sighed.

"So, your real name is Elizabeta?"

She nodded. "I didn't want to lie, but I hope you understand why I did."

"There are people after you?"

"Yes, it's a long story and it's probably best I don't tell you more than what you already know."

"What's going to happen to me?"

"I don't know yet. I want to say that everything will be alright, but things haven't alright in a long time."

Alfred sighed. "Right now I wish I really was Captain America. He'd be able to fix this."

Elizabeta smiled. "I'm sure he would."

Lovino chose that moment to walk into the room. "I have something to tell you," he said. Elizabeta followed him back to his bedroom.

"You figured out what we're going to do about Alfred?" she asked.

"No, but I remembered how I know Lavinia Crewe. I met her about three years ago at one of Lima's parties. She was Alessandro's date."

Elizabeta frowned. "Are you sure it was her?"

"Bright red hair, blue eyes, very pretty?"

"It sounds like her."

"It was her. I remember it well now. She was very…interesting to meet."

"'Interesting'? What does that even mean?"

Lovino's cheeks were pink. "I-It just means interesting, alright? What's with all the questions?"

"Why are you getting so defensive?" Elizabeta smirked and cocked her head. "Just how well did you know Miss Crewe?"

"I barely spoke to her! Sandro introduced us, we talked for a while and then they left. I didn't see her again that night, I went home early."

"Yes, I'm sure that is exactly how it went." Lovino turned redder and for a second, Elizabeta forgot how angry she was with him. He was too fun to tease.

"Believe whatever the fuck you want," Lovino muttered. "I don't care."

"Hey, was Alessandro ever involved in a world-wide drug smuggling operation?"

"Not that I know of. The Family dealt with drugs from time to time, but nothing serious. Grandpa hated the drug trade."

"Well, I wonder how Alessandro knew Lavinia then."

Lovino shrugged. "Does it matter? He's dead."

"I know but…" Something wasn't right but Elizabeta couldn't put her finger on it. She nearly jumped when there came the sound of someone pounding on the front door.

Lovino had his gun out in an instant. "Stay here," he said.

"I can hel—"

"Stay. Here." Lovino's tone made it clear that there was no room for negotiation.

Scowling, Elizabeta crossed her arms. "Fine." She paced around the room, feeling a mixture of anger and nervousness, until Lovino returned a few minutes later.

"I'm so done with this fucking day," he said, looking more than a little irritated. "Come on." He led Elizabeta back to the sitting room and she was shocked to find Gilbert sitting on the couch, talking quietly to Alfred.

"Gilbert? How did you find me?"

"I had Vash put a tracking device in your phone." Gilbert stood up from the couch. "When you didn't answer my calls or texts, I activated it."

"When were you planning on telling me this?"

"I wasn't."

Lovino held out his hands. "Both of your phones. Now."

"No way!"

"Gilbert, just give him your phone. You don't even like that phone."

"Yeah, but…fine!" Sulking, Gilbert tossed his phone to Lovino. Elizabeta handed hers over as well. Lovino took them both and disappeared back down the hall.

"So, you finally found him." Gilbert said. "I'm sure you're on Cloud 9 right now."

Elizabeta snorted. "Not exactly."

"Where are we, by the way?"

"His flat…or his hideout. I don't know, probably both."

"Okay. And why is Alfred handcuffed to a radiator?"

Elizabeta told him the whole story. Everything from going to the Con to Lovino bringing her and Alfred back to his apartment. "Now we're just trying to figure out what to do with him." She glanced at Alfred, who was gloomily staring at that wall. She switched to German. "Lovino is intent on kidnapping him. I understand his reasons, but it's not right to ruin someone's life like that."

"What do we do then?"

"I don't know." Elizabeta sighed. "It looks like we're going to be here for a while. I might as well go and pick up a few things." She had looked in Lovino's fridge. It had been empty except for a half-eaten box of take-out.

"You really think he," Gilbert inclined his head towards the hallway Lovino had gone down, "is going to let you leave?"

"No, which is why you're going to distract him long enough for me to sneak out. I saw a bus station on the way here; it can't be more than a ten minute walk there. I'll be back soon."

Gilbert sighed. "The things I do for you. You better haul ass. And buy me some cookies."

"Will do."

While Gilbert went to find Lovino, Elizabeta tiptoed to the front door. She spotted the baseball cap Lovino had been wearing earlier hanging on a hook by the door and slipped it on. "I'll be back soon," she whispered to Alfred before closing the door behind her. Luckily, there was a department store nearby. She more or less raced through it. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being followed. Unsurprisingly, Lovino was fuming when she returned to the apartment.

"You're going to get us all killed!"

Elizabeta rolled her eyes and pulled off the baseball cap. "We would probably starve before anyone found us here." She reached into one of the bags. "Don't be too upset. I got you something." She held up the box for him to see.

Lovino scowled. "A razor? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Nope. Be happy, I almost bought waxing strips. Now, remove that…thing from your face."

"But it's—"

"—part of your disguise, I know. Which is why," she reached into another bag and pulled out a small case. Inside were a pair of oversized glasses, "I got you these. You'll look much better, I promise."

"You see this, this is why this partnership or team or whatever you want to call it will not work," Lovino said. "But, if you want to play it that way." He went back to his room and returned a few seconds later with box of hair dye. He handed it to Elizabeta.

She frowned. "Auburn?"

"You'll look much better, I promise."

Elizabeta gave him a tight smile and set the box of hair dye on the table. "Thank you," she said through clenched teeth. "Why do you have a box of auburn hair dye anyway?"

"I dye my hair a lot," Lovino said casually. He grabbed an orange from one of the bags and began to peel it. Elizabeta stared at him. "What?"

"I thought me going shopping was 'stupid' and I'm going to 'get us all killed'?"

"Just because you going out was a dumb idea doesn't mean I'm not going to eat the food."

"You can be such an—"

Gilbert chose that moment to interrupt. "Okay, I'm going to stop this conversation. You both sound way too married right now and it's freaking me out."

They both scowled at him but he only grabbed a box of cookies and walked away smirking.

"By the way Alfred," Elizabeta said, "I got you some clothes. It wasn't until I got to the store that I realized I forgot to ask what size you wear. I assumed you'd want to get out of that costume."

"Thanks." Alfred gave her a small smile. "The outfit is a little itchy."

Lovino let Alfred out of the handcuffs long enough for him to change his clothes and eat. Despite Elizabeta's protests, he insisted on keeping Alfred cuffed for the night.

"It's fine. I've slept in worse positions at boy scout camp." Alfred said when Elizabeta brought him a blanket. He made a face. "That came out wrong."

"We'll have everything sorted out by tomorrow." Elizabeta bit her lip. At least she hoped so.

Despite the weird position, Alfred fell asleep quickly and Gilbert soon after. Although she was exhausted, the last thing Elizabeta wanted to do was sleep. She ended up sitting in the kitchen and smoking cigarettes out the window. She had finally changed out of her stained dress. She had taken off all her fake jewelry and thrown away the colored contacts. She figured she wouldn't be needing them anymore.

"You're going to set the smoke alarm off," Lovino grumbled when he came into the kitchen.

"I opened the window for a reason." She blew a cloud of smoke into the night. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I don't sleep much. Why aren't you?"

"I have a lot on my mind."

"Your hair doesn't look as bad as it was before."

Elizabeta ran a hand through her now auburn locks. "I could say the same about your face," she shot back. Lovino had shaved but he had kept his hair the same length. He tied it back and she found that she didn't mind this. He was wearing the glasses that she had bought, making him look like what she had heard Americans refer to as "hipsters". She pointed to a chair by the table. "Sit."

Lovino raised an eyebrow, but he pulled the chair out and sat down across from her.

She had been planning this speech for a long time, but now she was having trouble starting it. "You…I…You know…" She sighed. "Give me a second." She took a deep breath. "W-When we last spoke, at Tenerife, you said a lot of horrible things to me. I know you didn't mean them. At least that's what I tell myself. Still, thinking about it makes me so angry. Like right now, I don't know whether to slap you or…" She took a hit from the cigarette. "Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I understand why you did what you did. It was incredibly cruel, but I get it. I don't know how all of this is going to turn out but please…please don't go off by yourself again. I know you're scared. We're all scared. But pushing any of us away isn't going to help. That's…that's all I wanted to say."

Lovino said nothing. She didn't expect him to. She finished her cigarette and then stood up from the chair.

"I didn't mean it."

Elizabeta paused by the kitchen doorway. Lovino spoke again.

"I didn't mean any of it."

Her heart was pounding in her chest but she only shook her head and left the kitchen. She went to the sitting room and sat down in front of the couch. It was there she finally feel asleep. She woke up the next morning to the sound of Gilbert calling her name.

"Liz? Liz!"

Groaning, she opened her eyes. Gilbert was standing over her, a look of worry on his face.

"Wha-what's wrong?" she said, half yawning. "What time is it?"

"Almost nine. Liz, listen. There was an accident at the diner."

"What?" Elizabeta was fully awake now. "What type of accident?"

"There was a fire. I got bored this morning so I was messing around with the radio on the counter. One of the stations was talking about the diner. They don't know exactly what caused it, but right now they think it might have been an electrical problem."

Elizabeta glanced over at the radiator but saw only a pair of handcuffs on the floor. "Where's Alfred?"

"In the shower."

"Does he know?"

Gilbert nodded. "He wanted to go over there but of course Lovino said no. It almost got ugly. Good thing I was there to break things up." He almost looked smug. "Luckily, no one was hurt at the diner."

"It wasn't an accident." She had been right. Their time had been running out. And now it was up. She stood up from the floor. "We have to get out of here."

"Way ahead of you. Your boyfriend has already packed everything up and as soon as Alfred's out of the shower, we are out of here."

"He's not my boyfriend. And Alfred…what's he going to do?"

"The only thing I can do." They both turned to see Alfred coming down the hall, a towel draped over his shoulders. He was wearing the clothes Elizabeta had bought. They were a little small, but not obviously so. "I thought about it for a long time and I kept asking myself what would Captain America do? Actually, not just Captain America, what would any superhero do in this situation? They wouldn't just sit on the floor and complain. They would try to help the people they could!" Alfred's face fell. "I know I can't do anything for Ashley or Jack or anyone at the diner. Your friend explained that they're safest right now. If we were to try to talk to any of them, it would just look like they knew everything I know. They would be in even more danger. But, even I can't do anything for them, I can help you guys. You need a place to hide? I've got the perfect place. My family owns this sweet cabin in the middle nowhere Canada. It's actually in the middle of nowhere. It's nearly impossible to get there unless you know where you're going. My dad bought it because he wanted to "experience the real outdoors". It's so small and in such a remote location that my dad never bothered listing it as one of his properties." He smiled. "Mom was always afraid the government would come after him for lying. Anyway, I'm going to help you guys get there. It sucks not having superpowers but at least I can do this."

Elizabeta was in shock. "Are you sure? Did Lovino talk you into this?"

"No, it's just what I think is the right thing to do."

"Dude, I am so fucking grateful right now." Gilbert said.

Alfred grinned. "What kind of person would I be if I didn't help out someone who owns all the original Star Trek movies on DVD?"

Lovino came around the corner with Elizabeta's and Gilbert's cellphones in hands. "Here. I made a few adjustments."

"What kind?" Gilbert asked.

"The important kind," Lovino snapped. "No more stupid questions. We need to leave. I heard everything the kid said. I don't like it but right now that's all we've got. I've got a car—"

"Hold up." Alfred interrupted. "I'm not being thrown into another delivery truck. I'll help you guys get to the cabin, but we're doing it my way."

Lovino scowled. "And what way is that?"

Alfred grinned wider. "I want you guys to meet my baby."

…

"She's a 1967 Chevy Impala." Alfred ran a hand proudly over the hood of the black car. "My dad got her a few years back at an auction. She's practically a member of the family. We do everything together, you know, saving people, hunting things." He looked at them as if he expected some sort of reaction. He sighed when no one said anything. "You guys need to watch more T.V."

"We're getting to Canada in _that_?" Lovino asked.

Alfred's smile twitched. "Yes. Is there a problem with my car?"

"Well—" Elizabeta elbowed Lovino in the side.

"It's perfect, Alfred," she said. "Thank you again for everything."

"No problem. I've always wanted to go on an epic road trip while being chased by the Mafia," Alfred said. He held up the keys. "So, who wants to ride shotgun?"

"Me!" Gilbert yelled. Elizabeta rolled her eyes as he raced to the passenger's side.

"Before we go, you're going to need to change the license plate," Lovino said. He reached inside one of the bags he had brought and pulled out another license plate.

"What else do you keep in that bag?" Gilbert asked. Lovino ignored him. He handed the license plate to Alfred.

"Delaware? Why Delaware?" Alfred asked.

"Because. Now go change it. I don't want to be here for a minute longer." They were at the storage facility where Alfred kept his car. "We shouldn't even be here."

Grumbling, Alfred went to go switch the license plates.

Lovino turned to Elizabeta. "Why did you hit me?"

"You were being a brat. Isn't there some guy code about not insulting each other's car?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Whatever. Just be nice." Scowling, Lovino crossed his arms. "Also, I wanted to say thank you."

"For what?"

"For not running off last night. I'm sure you wanted to."

Lovino shrugged. "There was no point." He walked away to see what Alfred was doing.

"So, um, what are the chances of us all surviving this thing?" Alfred asked when they were all in the car. "Like the chance of us all getting to the cabin and everything being alright?"

"Realistically? 15%." Lovino said. Elizabeta glared at him but he ignored her.

"Ah, I see. In that case, y'all don't mind if I check a few things off my bucket list on the way?"

"Such as?" Lovino asked.

Alfred turned the key in the ignition. "You've heard of Sin City, right?"

* * *

**_An Interlude in Ipanema_**

She was sitting alone at the bar. She had cut her hair and dyed it black but it would have taken more than that to fool him. She had a cigarette in one hand and a glass of something clear in the other. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man wearing a suit that probably cost more than the average income of a local family sidle up to her. The man spoke a few words to her and a moment later her charming laughter reached his ears. The man strode away a few seconds later, his face an angry shade of red. Arthur let a minute pass before he straightened his tie and approached his target.

He slid into the seat next to her. "The gentleman from before, what did he want?" he asked.

She turned to him and smiled. If she was surprised to see him, she hid it well behind a mask of amusement. "What do all men want?" Lavinia Crewe replied. "You're late."

"Am I?"

"Yes. I thought you would have tracked me down weeks ago."

"You've done a fine job covering your tracks."

"I'll have to do a better job next time." She started to signal to the bartender but Arthur stopped her.

"Not, now," he said. "I need all my wits about me."

Lavinia blew a cloud of smoke into the air. The smile had slipped from her face. "Why are you here, Detective?" She almost sounded tired.

"You lied."

"You must be more specific, Detective. I lie a lot."

"The phone you gave me, you said it had the names of everyone involved in the organization, but when we actually tracked these people down, only about half were real, and of those, most of them had mysteriously disappeared, almost as if they were warned."

Lavinia's face remained impassive. "Honestly, I don't know what to say."

"How about you tell me the rest of the names? The real ones this time."

Lavinia dropped her cigarette in an ashtray. She gave Arthur a smile he couldn't read. "Do you dance, Detective?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "When the time calls for it."

"Believe me, it does."

Lavinia held out her hand. Arthur took it and she led him to the almost empty dance floor. They drifted to a corner where it was unlikely that they would be overheard.

"I don't want to talk about work tonight, Detective. Tell me about yourself. What have you been doing since I last saw you?"

"I'm not in the mood to play games tonight, Lavinia. I need the names, now. And call me Arthur."

"Tell me, _Arthur_, why are you're so fixated on getting a few names? Why can't you just be satisfied with the people you've caught? Even if it was only a few, that's more than enough to seriously cripple the organization."

"Not good enough. I need to know who's at the top. I'm not interested in crippling; I want to bring the whole thing down."

Lavinia narrowed her eyes. "I see." She gave him a knowing smile. "Does this have anything to do with your…old flame, or are you just doing this because it's your duty?"

Arthur would not grant her the satisfaction of seeing him blush. "Antonio's connected to this somehow. This is more than just some drug smuggling operation."

"Do tell."

Although he guessed she already knew part of what he was going to say, he continued, "My original plan was to track him down. One way or another. That idiot has no place getting mixed up in any of this. During my search, I discovered that he had been, until recently, working in a restaurant on Tenerife. When I went to see the owner, he told me that Antonio had just stopped coming in one day. Just like that. That's not the kind of person he is. When I asked the owner where Antonio was living, he said that he didn't know. Apparently, he'd been kicked out of his flat a few weeks earlier and had ended up staying with friends. The only details he could give me about these "friends" were that they were living in "one of those expensive villas". I did some digging and was able to obtain a list of all the owners of villas on Tenerife. A fool's errand one might think, but you never know what you'll find. And I found something very interesting." Arthur paused. For a few seconds they just stood there, swaying slowly to the sounds of Aretha Franklin.

Lavinia made a frustrated noise. "Don't be a tease. What did you find?"

"One of the villas on the island belonged to a Mr. G. Beilschmidt. It had recently been inherited by his grandson, Gilbert. I couldn't believe it. It couldn't be the same Gilbert Beilschmidt who is friends with Elizabeta Hédeváry, of whom we are both acquainted with. But it was."

Lavinia chuckled. "Oh my, what are the chances of that?"

"Imagine my surprise, and it takes a lot of surprise me. I even went to the villa, but no one was there. Antonio, Gilbert, Elizabeta. They're all connected to this. The question is: How?"

"You're asking me?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know. _Non c'è rosa senza spine. _That's the message you were told to give to Elizabeta. What does it mean?"

_"Every rose has its thorns__."_

"Don't play dumb, Lavinia. Who's the Big Bad Wolf?"

"I don't know what it means and I don't know who that is."

Arthur tightened his grip on her and pulled her closer. More people had begun to move onto the dance floor. "I've had just about enough of your lies, Miss Crewe."

"I'm not lying," Lavinia hissed. "I don't know! I'm just a messenger, don't shoot me."

"But you do have an idea of how Elizabeta is connected to all this."

Lavinia bit her lip and looked as if she was weighing her options before she finally answered, "All I know is that your friend is in trouble. Big trouble. She's made some very important people very angry. They're searching for her now and I assure you that when they find her, and they will find her, they will kill her. You better hope they kill her quickly too. That would be mercy. I know what you're thinking; I can see it on your face. You can't save her. You can't save any of them. I'm sorry."

"You're not sorry."

Lavinia shrugged. "I do pity them though. Do yourself a favor, Arthur. Go back to London; go back to your little office. Forget about all of them. This is one case you cannot solve."

Arthur smirked. "There is no case I cannot solve. This one is no exception. And you're going to help me solve it."

"You must be joking. I'm on the run, Detective, or have you forgotten? I'm in even more danger than your little friends. I know what will happen to me if I'm caught and there will be no mercy involved. Why in the world would I help you?"

"Because deals and international laws be damned, if you refuse, I will drag you back to London and expose you for what you really are. But you won't go to jail, that would be kindness. No, you'll be free to go about as you please but I will make sure everyone knows where you are. You won't be able to run and you won't be able to hide. How long do you think you'll last? A week? A day? An hour?"

"You won't do that." Lavinia had gone pale. "You can't."

"I can and I will. I can make your life a living hell. But if you choose to work with me, you can expect to have a much more comfortable future. Say yes and I promise, once our business is concluded, you will never have to worry about me again. I will keep your secret and I'll even set up a little bank account for you on the side; in the Cayman Islands or Switzerland, you decide. I'll make sure you receive a bi-yearly stipend for the rest of your life. How does five-hundred grand sound?"

"Two million."

Arthur laughed. "You have some sense of humor, Miss Crewe. Seven-hundred grand."

"1.5 million."

"850 grand."

"1.2 million."

"Nine-hundred grand and that's my final offer. Take it or leave it."

"Fine," Lavinia huffed. "I will help you, Detective. I expect you to hold up your end of our bargain. If you don't, you will be very sorry."

"You don't have to worry about that."

"Meet me at my hotel in 20 minutes." She told him the address. "I'm under the name Daisy Holmes. It's a precious thing really, the hotel. I can see the ocean from my room and the sunrise is beautiful. We will talk more there. Unfortunately, it seems our time here has come to an end. We have company, but I'm sure you've already noticed."

"The burly men in white suits by the bar? They're not making much of an effort to blend in."

Lavinia gave him a sly smile. "What do you say we divide and conquer?" She leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. "See you soon," she whispered in his ear. She pulled away and weaved through the now crowded dance floor. It was not until she had slipped out the door that one of white-suited men at the bar went after her. The other stayed in his spot, his eyes never leaving Arthur.

"You and I, we're going to have some fun," Arthur said, hoping the man could read his lips. He started walking towards the kitchens. He didn't have to look back to know that he was being followed.

Ten minutes later, the man was lying unconscious on the floor of the freezer. Arthur guessed he had at least two broken ribs and a broken nose. "Sleep well," Arthur said before closing the freezer door. He wiped away the blood on his mouth and straightened his tie. "Carry on," he said to the wide-eyed and opened-mouth cooks and waiters who had watched the whole fight unfold. "Is there a back door?" After a few seconds, one of the waiters pointed a shaking finger to a door at the far end of the room. "Ah, very good. Much thanks." Arthur started to leave, but then paused. "Don't open that freezer. Wait one hour—no, two hours, then call the police. Okay? Okay." He left the kitchens through the door the waiter had pointed to and stepped into the warm night. He didn't even bother heading in the direction of the hotel Lavinia had told him she was staying. She had lied to him, again, and he had seen right through it. He reached the hotel where she was really staying in five minutes. The man at the front desk's eyes bulged almost comically when Arthur approached the front desk. Arthur didn't blame him. It was almost one in the morning and Arthur was sporting a split lip and a blood-stained suit.

"C-C-Can I help you, sir?" The desk clerk managed to get out.

"Yes, I'm looking for a friend of mine. I believe she's staying here. Her name is Sforza, Sophia Augusta Sforza. Could you look up her room number for me? I would greatly appreciate it."

"I-I'm sorry, sir. I cannot d-do that. W-Would you like me to call her?"

"No, no. Look, mate, I really need to see her. She's actually my wife, you see. We're separated now and I think she wants to get a divorce. I can't lose her. Just give me her room number so I can talk to her. I'll be quick, no more than ten minutes. This looks bad, I know, but I just don't want to lose my family, you understand?"

"I understand, sir, and I'm sorry, but Miss Sforza left special instructions that she is not to be disturbed for any reason. Are you sure you don't want me to call her?"

Arthur ignored the question. He reached out and ran his thumb over the hotel clerk's collar. The man stiffened. "Does your wife know you're having an affair?" Arthur asked quietly. The man's eye's widened further and the blood drained from his face. "There's a lipstick stain on your collar and your wedding ring is missing."

"How did you—"

"The tan line on your finger. But that's just the most obvious sign. There are about 15 more. If you like, I could tell you them all—" Arthur peered at the man's nametag "—Mateus. Nice name. It shouldn't be too hard to find you in the directory, Mateus. We could call your wife together, how's that?"

"No! Please, no! I will do whatever you want."

"Sophia's room number, please and thank you."

…

From his hiding spot, Arthur watched as Mateus knocked with a trembling hand on Lavinia's door. "Miss Sforza?" Even his voice shook. "I'm sorry to bother you but there are some men downstairs asking for you. They say they are police but they are not wearing the uniform. I do not want any trouble, Miss Sforza."

"It's all right, dear," Arthur heard Lavinia say. "They're just friends of mine. Tell them I'll be down in a few minutes."

"Alright, thank you, Miss Sforza." Mateus turned back to Arthur, who nodded. Mateus hurried away. Less than a minute after he had gone, Lavinia poked her head into the hallway. She quickly glanced around and then stepped out of her room carrying a small bag in hand. Just as Arthur predicted, she headed straight for the emergency exit at the end of the hallway. She had only taken a few steps before he approached her silently from behind and raised the gun in his hands.

"Don't move, don't turn around, and don't scream," he said. He heard Lavinia groan.

"I just can't escape from you, Detective, can I?"

"No, you can't."

"How did you find me?"

"The ocean view you described, the hotel you said you were staying at doesn't have that view. I knew you were here because when you raised your hand to signal the bartender at the restaurant there was a faded streak of green paint on the palm. This is the only hotel in the area that is currently undergoing renovations. They're repainting their lobby…green."

"Nothing escapes you, does it, Detective?"

"I told you to call me Arthur. And no, most things do not."

"And my name? How did you figure that out?"

"Your sentimentality betrays you. You always hide behind that which is most meaningful to you and this is your greatest weakness. I figured out your name the same way I figured out the passcode on your phone. Sophia Augusta Fredricka, also known as Catherine the Great, and Caterina Sforza, the two women you most greatly admire. You referenced them more than once in your articles. Your great-grandmother was Russian, which was why I believed you would use Sophia Augusta as your first name and Sforza as your surname."

"Bravo, Arthur. I would clap, but I'm afraid you'll shoot me. You know me far too well. I'm almost flattered."

"Back into the room, Lavinia. And don't do anything stupid."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

They walked slowly back inside Lavinia's room and Arthur closed the door behind them. Except for the hotel furniture, the room was bare. Arthur gestured to a chair by the bed. "Drop the bag and sit down." Lavinia did as she was told.

"You look a terrible mess, Detective," Lavinia said. "Had some trouble, did we?"

"No more than usual." Arthur inspected a spot of blood on the cuff of his jacket. "I don't know if I can trust you anymore, Miss Crewe. You keep lying to me."

Lavinia gave him a tight smile. "Can't blame a girl for trying to protect herself. So, what now?"

"Now…now I'm thinking of taking you back to London."

"No!" Lavinia's grip on the chair tightened. "No!"

"Yes. You clearly don't want to work with me, so this is the only other option."

"I can't help you, Detect—Arthur! I don't know the rest of the names. The ones in the phone, the real ones, were the only ones I could find. I don't know who's at the top. I don't even know who's fifth from the top! I've told you everything I know!" She covered her face with her hands. "Please, just leave me alone! Why won't you leave me alone?"

"I can't. Even if you don't know the rest of the names, you know who does."

Lavinia's hands fell away from her face. Her eye make-up was smudged and her bottom lip trembled. "Those aren't people you want to go after, trust me."

"Oh, but I do. I plan on knocking down a few doors."

Lavinia studied him for a few seconds and then smiled. It was the first genuine smile he had seen on her. "You're very brave." She wiped the tears from her eyes. "Stupid, but brave."

"Help me, Lavinia, and I promise no one will ever hurt you again. You're too smart to be hiding in places like this. You're a right pain in my arse, but I…I need you."

"Enough, you're going to make me blush." She reached into the bag at her feet. Arthur started to raise the gun. "Relax, it's only lipstick," she said. She held up the black tube for him to see. She applied the dark red lipstick quickly and then dropped the tube back into her bag. "I'm nothing without my lipstick." She stood up from the chair and walked over to Arthur. She touched the gun in his hand. "You won't be needing this anymore."

"Forgive me if I don't believe—" She cut him off with a kiss. It was the type of kiss that was supposed to knock you off your feet and leave you dazed and wanting more. If anything, it just made Arthur slightly dizzy.

Lavinia ran a finger down his face. "Okay, I'll help you out, Arthur. How about we seal the deal the old-fashioned way?"

"You put on a good act, I must give you that."

Lavinia frowned. "Meaning?"

"Meaning, you have as much intention of having sex with me as I do with you. Which is not at all. You play the seductress long enough to distract your opponent and then strike when they least expect it. This might work on other men, but not me. You keep forgetting how well I know you."

Lavinia grinned widely. "Oh, Detective." She laughed and kissed him again. "You don't know me at all."

A wave of dizziness suddenly hit Arthur and he felt his legs give out from beneath him. The gun slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. He would have fallen to the floor if Lavinia hadn't caught him. She lowered them both to the ground until his head was resting on her lap. She stroked his brow gently.

"What—what did you do to me?" Arthur gasped. His head was spinning and his whole body was going numb. Lavinia smiled wider. Her mouth was red and horrible and red, and suddenly it all made sense. "The lipstick," he managed to say. She nodded.

"It's my own special recipe. It causes dizziness, slight nausea, and will knock you out just long enough for me to get far, far away from here. You didn't see that one coming, did you?"

The door of the room opened and in stepped the desk clerk. Mateus, Arthur remembered. His name was Mateus. It was getting harder to think. It seemed as if a thick fog was settling over his mind. He wanted to call for help but it was as if his tongue had swollen to twice its normal size.

"Everything is set, Miss Crewe," Mateus said. "Your car is downstairs."

"Thank you, Ricardo. You've been a doll," Lavinia said.

The man smirked. "Always happy to help." He left the room, leaving Arthur more confused than ever.

Lavinia turned back to him. "Oh, Detective. My darling, Detective. Always so clever, so insightful. But not this time. No, not this time. From the moment you sat down at the bar, you were mine. You fell right into my trap. It was always going to end this way. Can you still hear me? I hope you can." Her voice became cold. "I'm tired, Detective. So, so tired of men like James and men like you. Men who care only about what I can do for them, and not about me at all. Men who try to control me and use threats to do so. No more, Detective. I won't stand for it anymore. From now on anything I do is because I want to do it. Anything I tell you is because I want to tell you. I'm done being someone's plaything, their puppet." She leaned down and kissed him gently on the forehead. "I hope you always remember me like this, Detective. I am the woman who beat you. I am the woman who will always beat you."

She smiled and it was the last thing Arthur saw before he passed out.

…

When Arthur awoke the next, he found that all his clothes had been taken except his underpants. He sat up slowly and groaned. His head was pounding fiercely, his mouth was dry, and his whole body felt battered. He couldn't remember ever having a hangover this bad. A wave of nausea rolled over him and he had to lie back down and wait for it to pass. When he was able to sit back up without feeling like retching, he managed to find his wallet and was unsurprised to find it empty. Both his gun and his phone were also missing. He was still sitting on the floor, contemplating his next move and trying to deal with the anger at both Lavinia and himself, when the door to the room opened and the desk clerk walked in. What was his name? Mateus? Ricardo? Arthur didn't know and he honestly didn't care. The man was carrying a tray on which was what looked like a Bloody Mary, a bottle of pills, and an unmarked white envelope. Too tired and too nauseous to do anything except remain where he was, Arthur watched as the desk clerk set the tray down beside him.

"Compliments of Miss Crewe." Was all the desk clerk said before he left the room.

Arthur glanced over at the tray. He ignored the drink and the pills and picked up the envelope. Inside was a neatly written letter.

_My dear Detective,_

_By the time you read this, I shall be far away. I hope you are wise enough to realize that coming after me would be impractical. The result will always be the same. Please enjoy the gifts I have left for you. The pills will get rid of any remaining side-effects and the drink is for fun. I hope you're not too angry with me, Detective. I did what I had to do. If it's any consolation, I was not lying when I agreed to aide you in your case, despite how foolish I believe it is. Don't bother asking why, my reasons are my own. If you're still willing to accept my help, I have included at the end of this letter the name and the address of a man I believe you will be interested in talking to. Meet me in Paris in three weeks. I will send you details as to precisely where in the coming weeks. I should have some information for you then._

The letter was signed with a kiss.

He could track her down, he knew he could, but he grudgingly agreed with her that it wouldn't be practical. He glanced at the name of the man at the bottom of the paper. Angelo Farnese. Hopefully he would be able to fill in some of the gaps for Arthur. Arthur doubted it was a trap. If Lavinia had wanted to kill him, she would have; she'd had the perfect opportunity last night. Still, it seemed the more he learned about her, the less he really knew her. For Arthur, most people were living, breathing fact sheets; everything important about them could be found on the surface level. He knew facts about Lavinia, he knew almost everything there was to know, yet she remained a mystery. He would figure her out, eventually. However, at that moment, he had bigger problems to deal with. Arthur picked up the bottle of pills and swallowed two, washing them down with half of the Bloody Mary. He set the rest of the drink back on the tray and stood up, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to overtake him, and left the hotel room. He needed to find some clothes. He had a plane to catch.

* * *

**A/N:** Mm, not much to say except I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and got all the references I threw in there. The title of the next one will be **I dream of Lady Liberty**. It should be fun to write :)

-dancer


	18. I Dream of Lady Liberty: Part 1

**A/N:** So I had to wrap up this chapter a little earlier than I had expected. The last part of what was supposed to be in this chapter will be in the next chapter. I did this as a little gift to my lovely readers. I have been extremely busy in the past few months. I'm currently applying to medical school so I've spent the last few months writing essays and filling out applications, leaving me with almost no time or energy to work on this fic. I finally had some time/inspiration a few weeks ago and started writing all you see below.

However, I'm going to very busy again in the coming weeks as I prepare for interviews and write more application essays. As a result, I thought it best if I just posted everything I have at this point because if I was going to finish the chapter as I originally intended, I wouldn't be done for at least two more months because I would have practically no time to write. And the thought of making you guys wait until late October/early November for the next chapter made me feel horrible. As one reviewer put it, it's been over four months since I last update and I'm SO SORRY. But enough rambling. Here's the next chapter! Please enjoy!

**Extra notes: Roman = Rome**

* * *

**I dream of Lady Liberty**

**Part 1**

Elizabeta looked at the cards in her hand and grimaced. They were all useless. At least she thought they were. The rules of the game had been hastily explained to her and not very well. Beside her, Gilbert looked smug. Across the table sat Alfred, whose expression was unreadable. She hadn't thought that someone who was normally so full of energy could pull off such a convincing poker face. The last person at the table was an elderly man wearing a tropical print shirt and bright yellow shorts. Of all the players at the table, he looked to care the least about the results of the game.

When the betting was over and it was time for the players to reveal their hands, Elizabeta discovered that her cards weren't completely useless.

"High card," the dealer announced. Elizabeta had no idea what that meant.

Gilbert was next. His smiled widened as he laid down his cards.

"Full house."

Elizabeta knew enough about poker to know that it was a good hand. Or at least it was better than hers.

The elderly man was next.

"Two pair."

The man only shrugged.

Alfred, who had remained completely composed the whole game, broke into a wide grin and slapped his cards down on the table.

"Straight flush," the dealer said. "We have a winner."

The smug look vanished from Gilbert's face and was replaced by one of anger.

The older gentleman stood up from his chair. "Good game," he said to Alfred.

"Same to you," Alfred replied brightly.

"I still don't understand how I lost," Gilbert said after they left the table. "There's no one in my family better than me. I've been kicking my brother's ass at poker since we were kids."

"Well, you've never played against me before." Alfred was still staring at the receipt in his hands. "I won my town's junior poker tournament three years in a row. When it comes to Texas Hold'em, I'm the best. The only one who has ever beaten me is my brother Matt."

"It would have been nice if I'd known that earlier," Gilbert grumbled. "You better use that money wisely. Don't spend it all in one place, kid."

"Don't worry. This is all going to towards the game station I'm going to set up in my apartment in New York."

"Or, maybe it could go towards gas for the car?" Elizabeta suggested.

Alfred tucked the receipt into his pocket. "Nah."

Elizabeta sighed. "Well, do you guys want to keep playing? Because I'm broke."

"And I'm not lending you any more money," Gilbert said.

"I don't know if I'm readying to pack it in yet," Alfred said. "I'm feeling lucky."

"Isn't that what everyone says before they lose big?" Elizabeta asked. "Anyway, if we stay here any longer, I'm afraid Lovino might actually take off."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Gilbert said. "Come on Al, let's go find the slot machines. Liz, you can go find Captain Cranky."

"Meet us at the front in 20," she called after them.

"Okay, see you in an hour," Gilbert said without turning back.

Elizabeta didn't bother correcting him. She found Lovino at the bar a few minutes later. He had a half-empty drink in front of him and wore a look of utter boredom on his face.

"You look pleased." She sat down next to him. "What are you drinking?'

"Hell if I remember but it's my third one. Take it if you want."

"No thanks." She drummed her fingers against the bar top. "So, aren't you going to ask about the poker game?"

"I didn't know I was supposed to care."

"You can pretend to."

Lovino sighed. "Who won the damn match?"

"Alfred."

"The idiot cowboy? I'm almost impressed."

"You're such a brat. He won $300."

"You say that like it's something amazing."

"Isn't it?"

"No, it's pathetic."

"What? How?"

"$300 is nothing."

"Easy for you to say."

Lovino shrugged. "This whole place is pathetic really. Why did you choose this casino?"

"I thought it would be fun. It's the grand opening weekend after all."

The name of the casino was The White Rabbit. Elizabeta had discovered it while flipping through the guidebook at the motel. While it was not as large as most of the surrounding casino resorts, it had a simple, yet elegant design. The interior was all black and white marble; large white arches separated the different sections of the resort, and at every corner were red and white rosebushes. All the employees wore a black suit with a white bowtie and white gloves. Pinned to the lapel of the suit jacket was an artificial rose that was painted half white, half red. To complete the ensemble, all the staff wore white rabbit ears on their heads and some wore fluffy rabbit tails. Elizabeta had even seen a woman with whiskers painted on her face. Overall, the casino was welcoming and charming and lacked the intimidation factor of many of the surrounding, more well-known establishments in the area.

Lovino tossed back the rest of his drink. "This is hardly a grand opening," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Look at the turnout. I'm not even affiliated with the place and it's fucking embarrassing. No one is here."

Elizabeta noticed that the bartender was glaring at them and wished that Lovino would lower his voice. "What are you talking about?" she asked. "There are plenty of people here."

"Yeah, you could say that, if it was a Tuesday afternoon. But a grand opening? No, this is fucking sad. If the rest of the weekend is like this, this place won't last a month. Three weeks maybe, if they're lucky."

"And what makes you the authority on casinos?"

Lovino was quiet for a few seconds before he finally said, "My grandpa owned a few. Not just here, but all over. He only had one in Vegas."

Elizabeta's jaw dropped. "You mean the Ma—" She slapped a hand over her mouth. Lovino's glare was icy. "S-Sorry."

"You talk way too much." Lovino signaled to the bartender. The man scowled and turned away. "What the hell was that? Asshole."

"I'm confused though. This place is beautiful. Why wouldn't people want to come here?"

"Why indeed," said a new voice. Elizabeta turned to see a well-dressed black woman standing behind her. Next to her stood two large men wearing plain dark suits and blank faces. None of them wore rabbit ears.

"Fuck," Lovino said. His face has gone white. "Fayola?"

The woman smiled. "Lovino. This must be my lucky day."

Elizabeta's heart skipped a beat. Her mind was instantly filled with questions. Who was this woman? How did she know Lovino? Was she dangerous? Was she a part of the Family? If they needed to escape, would they be able to?

"W-What are you doing here?" Lovino asked.

"I could ask you the same thing. If the rumors I've been hearing are true, you should be looking for a place to hide. Not drinking in my casino."

"_Your_ casino?"

"Yes, my casino. We should catch up, Lovino. How many years has it been since we saw each other? Five? Six? I have so many things to tell you. And I'm sure you have a tale or two for me. Come, we will talk in my private suite."

Lovino didn't move. Elizabeta hardly dared to breathe. Her eyes scanned the room looking for the nearest exit. There was one to their left, but it was far enough away that she didn't know if they would be able to reach it if the two men with Fayola decided to give chase, which seemed extremely likely.

Fayola's smile widened. "You don't trust me. Cautious as ever. You are truly Roman's grandson. Have no fear, Lovino. You and your friend will be fine. Come on, both of you."

Elizabeta was shocked to be included. "M-Me too?"

"Yes, of course. The more the merrier. Or, you could always stay here. Jean"—Fayola gestured to one of the men beside her—"would be happy to keep you company, I'm sure."

"We'll go together," Lovino said firmly.

"Then let's go."

Fayola began to walk away. Elizabeta and Lovino followed and the two men brought up the rear. Elizabeta stole a glance at Lovino. His eyes were fixed on Fayola. His face a mix of emotions that she couldn't read. No one said a word until they reached Fayola's private suite. The large suite was designed very similar to the casino hotel. There was even a small potted rose bush by the front door.

Fayola led them to a room decorated with abstract artwork. Fittingly, the paintings were all done using only black and white paint. Fayola indicated that they should sit. Elizabeta and Lovino slowly lowered themselves onto the plush black and white cushions.

"Can I get either of you something to eat? Drink?" Fayola asked.

"No. Let's just get on with it," Lovino said.

"Straight to business then. That's one of the things I've always liked about you, Lovino. I will answer all your questions in time. But first, introductions." Fayola turned her attention to Elizabeta. She held out a hand. "Fayola Basurato."

Elizabeta hesitated before she shook the hand in front of her. "Elizabeta Hédeváry." She didn't bother giving her false name. She knew there was no point. Fayola's grip was firm and Elizabeta took a moment to study the woman who sat before her. She was a handsome woman with smooth light brown skin. She looked to be in her mid to late forties. She wore her hair in braids that spilled freely down her shoulder. The smile she wore was friendly but her eyes were dark and unreadable.

"And how are you acquainted with Lovino?" Fayola asked.

"I…We—" Elizabeta struggled to find the right words.

"It doesn't matter," Lovino interrupted. "What do you want, Fay? Why are you in Vegas?"

Fayola sighed. "Such impatience. Alright, here is my story. After your grandfather killed my husband, I thought it better I leave not just Palermo, but Italy for good."

Lovino frowned. "We both know that isn't true. Grandpa had no part in your husband's death."

"Oh, is that so? Well, he certainly made little effort to save Emilio."

"He did what he could."

"I'm sure." Fayola was still smiling but all the warmth had left her face. "Whatever the case, Emilio's death left me completely alone. I'd never had any close friends within the Family and my own family had long since turned their back on me. So, I chose to leave Italy and that whole life behind. I did not lack for money. My husband had left me plenty. There were also the compensatory funds your grandfather had given me." Her laugh was bitter. "As if such a thing as death could be so easily compensated. Still, it helped get me here."

"Why here?" Lovino asked.

"Why not? Emilio always loved to gamble."

"It was one of the things that got him killed."

Fayola's eyes flashed with anger but her smile stayed in place. "Nonetheless, I decided to create my own little homage to my dear husband. It was easy enough finding the land, but after that everything became much more difficult. For some reason or the other, whether it is because of my sex or my race or—as one lawyer kindly put it—I simply 'don't belong', my competitors have been ruthless in their attempts to ruin this business. At every stage they've placed hurdles for me. Even something as simple as having the city approve the casino design took much longer than it should have because the owner of a very well-known casino claimed that the design was 'inappropriate'. Originally, I had planned to open last year, but because of a ridiculous lawsuit, I had to delay. As you can see, I was able to finally open this place, but even this grand opening has been ruined. Knowing that this weekend would be my grand opening, the owners of the both the neighboring establishments are hosting back to back boxing matches featuring the biggest names in the sport, as well as other festivities the details of which are unimportant. All of this explains, as you said Lovino, the embarrassing turnout."

"You're in deep shit, Fay. And I'm sorry, I really am," Lovino said. Elizabeta was surprised at the sincerity in his voice. Not only that, but the words themselves. Lovino saying sorry was a rare event indeed. "But what does this have to do with me? Because I know you didn't bring me up here to 'catch up'."

"I'm getting to that now. In two days, I and the owners of the three surrounding casino resorts will be having a private poker match. We each are to put forth a representative to compete in the match. For the others, it's just another game. For myself, it is a chance to prove to them how serious I am about this business. It is my chance to let them know how little their intimidation tactics mean to me. Winning is the only option. But of course, my competitors are doing their best to destroy this chance as well. I was informed just this afternoon that my representative—a very good and very well-known poker player—is missing. The man is under a strict contract and I have ensured that he will be paid handsomely for his services so I am nearly certain that his disappearance is none of his doing. I have the authorities searching for him but it is highly unlikely they find him before the match and I need to put forth the name of my representative before the end of today.

"So, here I was, fretting about what to do when I see on a security camera who else but you, Lovino. You cannot imagine my surprise. Although I've cut most of my ties to Palermo, I still have one or two people who keep me up to date about what is going on in the city. Tell me Lovino, because I will not believe it unless I hear it from you, is it true that Stephano Lima and his son are dead?"

Lovino's hands curled into fists. Elizabeta saw the muscles in his jaw tighten. "Yes."

"And the person responsible for their deaths is you?"

"Yes."

"But Lov—" Elizabeta was cut off by a sharp glare. She bit her lip and stared down angrily at her hands.

"Yes," Lovino repeated. "I killed them."

Fayola's eyebrows went up, but the rest of her expression remained neutral. "Is it also true that the families are uniting together?"

"Yes."

"My, my. I couldn't believe any of it at first. Even hearing it from you…Well, I suppose that explains your current…predicament."

"You still haven't explained what it is you want from me," Lovino said through clenched teeth.

"I think it's obvious. Have you really not guessed? I want to help you. Well, actually, I want you to help me so that I can help you." Fayola laced her fingers together and rested her chin on her hands. "I want you to represent me and my casino in the poker match. Before you say no, because I can see it in your face that you're just dying to refuse, let me offer an incentive. If you represent me and you win the match, I will do everything in my power to keep you and your friends safe while you're in this city. And when you decide to be on your way, I will also do my best to ensure that you reach your final destination with no trouble. Like I said earlier, I still have one or two people that keep me in the loop and these people are powerful and influential enough to say, start a rumor that you were spotted in, oh I don't know, somewhere in Mexico? Obviously, this would only serve as a temporary diversion but it would give you some time and, trust me, you need time."

"And if I say no?" Lovino asked.

Fayola sighed and leaned back in her chair. She twirled a dark braid around her finger. "I have known you since you were a baby, Lovino. I knew your mother. We were not friends but I respected her. And although our parting was bad, I deeply respected your grandfather." This time her smile was sincere. "That fool. He was a good man, for the most part." The smile vanished. "We have a history, Lovino, and the last thing I want to do is use threats against you. Unfortunately, I am desperate. If you refuse this offer, you will find the rest of your stay in this city to be very…uncomfortably, almost like being in a prison. And then there's the chance that the information regarding your whereabouts could fall into the wrong hands. Accidents do happen."

Elizabeta felt a surge of anger. "You would actually do that? Do you know what will happen if he's found?"

"Elizabeta, enough," Lovino said. She ignored him.

"What kind of person are you?" she yelled.

Fayola seemed undisturbed by her outburst. "Like I said, I'm desperate. I haven't come this far to lose like this."

"This isn't a game!"

Fayola laughed. "Sweetheart, this is Las Vegas. Everything here is a game. And in this game you win or you die. There are no other options. So, Lovino, what will it be?"

"Well it's not like I have a fucking choice," Lovino said. "I'll do it."

"_Eccellente!_ I'm so happy. Oh darling, don't look so angry. I'm sorry for putting you in this position, but I have no other choice. Here, I'll add a bonus. Until the match, you and your friends will be able to stay here in the hotel free of charge. You may use any of the services for free as well.

"I'm not an idiot, Fay. You're only doing this to keep an eye on me," Lovino said.

Fayola shrugged. "Can you blame me? You've always been so good at running away. There's no reason any of this has to be unpleasant. I know you will win."

_But what if he doesn't?_ Elizabeta wanted to ask but then she remembered Fayola's words. _"You win or you die."_ She felt a shiver run down her spine.

"I will have a contract drawn up immediately," Fayola said. "Until then, you both may go. But first, if you will tell one of my men the address of your current residence, they can go get your things. I will have the Tea Party Suite and the Queen of Hearts Suite made available right away." She stood up. Elizabeta and Lovino followed suit. "Thank you again, Lovino. Words cannot express my gratitude."

... ... ...

By the time Elizabeta and Lovino were taken back to the casino lobby, she was almost bursting with questions. As soon as the two men who had escorted them were gone, the questions spilled out.

"Who was she really? Why did you say you killed Lima and Alessandro? Why did you agree to that offer? Can you even play poker? What are we supposed to do? What and I going to tell Gilbert and Alfred? What—?"

"Elizabeta!" Lovino snapped. "Can you just shut up for five minutes?"

She scowled. "How can you be such a jerk at a time like this?"

He pulled her off to the side, away from the crowds. "I'm being a jerk? I just saved your fucking life. Again. If it wasn't for you, Gilbert, and the idiot cowboy, I wouldn't even be in this damn city. This is the reason I told you to stay away from me. If I was on my own, I could get out of here easy. Fay knows that. Like she said, I've always been good at running away. But I can't do that now. Not with you and the two stooges tagging along. So I'm stuck here. _We're_ stuck here. And not only do I have to play in that damn match, but I have to win. And yes, of course I know how to play poker. Why would you ask a question like that?"

"Because I didn't know, alright? You're not exactly forthcoming with information about yourself. And don't you dare blame the rest us for any of this. Maybe you still haven't realized it, but we're safer together. It's true!" she insisted when Lovino rolled his eyes.

"You really think that? Cause I just think we're nothing but a bigger target right now." Lovino sighed. "Arguing about this is stupid and all it's doing is giving me a headache."

"You still haven't told me about Fayola. She's a family friend, I figured that much, but what's the rest of her story? Why did she accuse your grandfather of killing her husband?"

"This isn't the time or the place to talk about that stuff. Anyway it's none of your business. Stop trying to push your way into my life." Lovino turned to go. "I'm going for a walk. Don't follow me."

"Yes, just walk away," Elizabeta yelled after him, ignoring the looks she received. "That's how you deal with everything, isn't it? You always leave." She wanted him to turn around, to yell something, anything, but he only kept walking. This only made her angrier. "Well, fuck you too," she said quietly. She leaned against one of the large marble pillars and tried to ignore the pain in her chest.

For a while, it had seemed that everything was going to be okay. Las Vegas was a huge city filled with millions of people; a place where it was especially easy to get lost in the crowd. It was precisely for that reason she hadn't raised any objections when Alfred had proposed the short detour. How was it that of all the casinos in the city, she had chosen the one run by a woman with the power to destroy their lives? So far Elizabeta's luck since coming to the city had been nothing but rotten and it didn't seem like it would be getting better any time soon.

"Liz!" Elizabeta turned to see Gilbert and Alfred walking towards her. "Where the hell have you been? We've been looking everywhere? Aren't you the one who said 20 minutes?" Gilbert grinned. "I've got a surprise for you. Guess who scored big at the slots?"

"Scored big? You only won $50," Alfred chimed in.

"Shut up! How much did you win at the slots? Nothing!"

"Yeah, but I already won $300—"

"As I was saying, it's impossible that someone as awesome as me wouldn't win anything. If either of you need tips for winning, don't be afraid to ask. What've you been up to, Liz? Where's the brat?"

Part of Elizabeta wanted to say nothing. She hated being the bearer of bad news. But the truth would come out eventually and wasn't it best that they heard it from her?

"There's something you both need to know."

... ... ...

"These room aren't half bad actually." Gilbert fell back onto one of the beds. "Nothing like the Ritz in Paris, but way better than where we were before."

They were in the Queen of Hearts Suite. It reminded Elizabeta of Fayola's personal suite, but smaller. Along with the master bedroom, the suite featured a sitting room, a bathroom with a whirlpool and an enclosed steam shower, two large flat screen TVs, a private work station, and beautiful view of the city. Due to the name of the room, Elizabeta had expected something tacky like heart-shaped mattresses or headboards, but the only thing heart-shaped in the suite was the mirror in the bathroom and she found it more charming than annoying. She wondered what the Tea Party Suite looked like. It was right across the hall but when she had tried the key she had been given, she had discovered that it had been locked from the other side. This meant Lovino was inside sleeping or just ignoring them. Most likely it was the latter.

"So, who is staying where?" Alfred asked. He had turned on the television and was scrolling through the premium channels. "Wow, we even get HBO."

"I'm not staying with the brat," Gilbert said.

"We have more pressing matters to discuss than room arraignments," Elizabeta said.

"Oh, you mean you want to talk about how your boyfriend went and fucked everything up again?"

"I told you to stop calling him that! And it's not his fault."

Gilbert had taken the news as Elizabeta had expected. With a copious amount of swearing, so loud that security had come over to ask if everything was alright. Alfred had handled the news much better. In fact, he had even seemed excited.

"It's like being in a James Bond movie," he had said. Elizabeta hadn't had the heart to tell him how serious the situation actually was.

Gilbert snorted. "Just like it wasn't his fault the diner got burnt down? He kidnapped Alfred! Don't make that face at me. You have to admit that everywhere that guy goes, bad things happen."

"So what should we do? Ditch him?"

"Well, we shouldn't rule it out as a possible option," Gilbert said slyly.

"You're unbelievable."

"Hey y'all, there's a_ Lord of the Rings _marathon on tonight!" Alfred announced. His smile faltered when he saw their faces. "Uh, are we talking about something important?"

Elizabeta sighed. "Do either of you have a suggestion for how we might get out of this mess?"

Silence was the only response she received until Alfred piped up, "I don't think there is a way out. And, even if there was, it wouldn't even be worth it. This Fayola lady doesn't seem the type to just let things go. If we somehow got out of the city she would probably just send her people after us. And I think we have enough people chasing us."

"Al's right," Gilbert said. "There's really nothing we can do except sit back and see how everything plays out."

"But how can we just do nothing?" Elizabeta asked.

"It's really not that hard. If you're going to worry about anything, worry about whether the brat can win the poker match. He said he could play poker, but can he play it well? How do we know he's not on your level?"

"I don't think Fayola would have asked him to represent her if he wasn't good."

"Probably not as good as me," Gilbert scoffed.

Before Elizabeta could deliver a scathing reply, there came a knock at the door.

"Room service!"

Elizabeta glanced at Gilbert who only shrugged. Alfred was once more preoccupied with the television. Elizabeta's heart began to race. Slowly, she walked to the front door. She peered through the peephole. Standing outside the door was a man whose clothing identified him as a hotel employee, although he lacked the rabbit ears. Elizabeta quickly scanned the room. Her eyes landed on a glass ashtray on the table. She picked it up and held it behind her back. She opened the door a crack.

"H-How can I help you?" she asked.

The man smiled. He looked to be around her age. He had curly brown hair and large blue eyes. "I bring compliments of Mrs. Basurato. She invites you and your companions to join her this evening for dinner and a show. A popular opera singer will be performing tonight at the hotel. You will have front row seats. I expect it will be a very thrilling experience. One could call it a once in a lifetime experience."

Elizabeta bit her lip. "Um, my friends and I aren't feeling very well. Is this, uh, an invitation that can be declined?"

"That is not an option I would advise." The man was still smiling but Elizabeta could read between the lines. Not attending was not an option. Still, Elizabeta struggled to find a suitable excuse.

"I…None of us have any clothes appropriate for such an occasion." This was only partly a lie. Elizabeta and Alfred didn't have any appropriate clothing. She knew Gilbert had at least two suits in his suitcase.

The man smiled wider. "That's not a problem. Mrs. Basurato assumed as much." He reached beyond her field of vision and pulled into view a portable clothes rack. It was packed with dresses of every color. "I have a rack for the gentlemen as well."

Elizabeta could only stare. "I-I-I c-can't," she stuttered when she finally found her voice. "I-I can't possibly accept any this! I-It's all too…kind. Mrs. Basurato didn't have to go out of her way like this."

"Oh, but she did. She wants to make your stay here as comfortable and enjoyable as possible. And no need to worry about the sizes. Everything should fit perfectly."

"I….I…" Elizabeta had run out of excuses. Inwardly cursing, she had no other option but to open the door the rest of the way. "Please, come in," she said resentfully. She let the ashtray fall to the floor behind her.

"Thank you," the man said. He wheeled the clothes rack into the suite.

"Hey! What the hell is this?" Gilbert yelled.

"We've been invited to dinner," Elizabeta said. "Mrs. Basurato has been kind enough to provide us with suitable evening wear."

"And we have to go?" Alfred asked.

"Unfortunately," Elizabeta whispered. The hotel employee had left the room to retrieve the other clothes rack. He returned seconds later with a clothes rack that was stuffed with suits.

"The dinner is tonight at seven in the ballroom on the first level. Please let me know if there is anything else I can get you," the man said. "My name is Leon. You can just call the front desk and ask for Leon and I'll be up here as fast as I can."

Elizabeta put on her best smile. "Thank you. We'll be sure to call if we need you." The smile died after she had closed the door. "Highly unlikely though," she muttered. When she turned around she saw that Gilbert had started going through the suits on the clothes rack. He pulled one out.

"You know, these are actually really good quality. This is the kind of stuff I buy."

Elizabeta brushed a thumb over a wine red dress. The material felt scratchy against her skin. "How can you tell? All those suits look the same."

Gilbert gave her a long look. "Honestly, Liz. Sometimes I wonder how we're friends." He tossed the suit onto the bed and pulled another from the rack. He glanced at it for less than a second before he said, "Al, you should wear this one. It will fit you great."

Alfred had finally moved away from the television. He took the suit from Gilbert and examined it suspiciously. "How do you know?"

"Trust me. This is my area of expertise."

"Unlike poker."

"Shut it, cowboy!"

Elizabeta turned away from them and focused on the clothes in front of her. Her eyes fell on a strapless dark green dress. It was a full length gown with a sash around the waist. The material was soft and cool in her hands. As she took the dress from the rack, there came another knock at the door.

"Room service!" This time the voice sounded female.

"Are you serious?" Elizabeta groaned. "Again?" When she opened the door she found two more hotel employees. Both women wore rabbit ears and tails. In their hands they carried large black cases.

"We're hair and make-up," one of the women said. She was tall and curvy with long blond hair and light blue eyes. "Well, I'm Hair and she's Make-up." The woman pointed to her companion, an olive-skinned woman with heavy-lidded dark brown eyes and curly brown hair. They both giggled at Hair's comment. "We're here on behalf of Mrs. Basurato. And you must be Miss Hédeváry." Hair suddenly leaned forward and grasped a strand of Elizabeta's hair. Elizabeta jerked back.

"E-Excuse me?" she all but yelled.

"I'm sorry," Hair said with a smile. "I just wanted to get an idea of what I'm in for. Not terrible but not great either. We should start at once."

"But I haven't agreed to anything," Elizabeta said. "I can do my own hair and make-up, thank you."

"Not like we'll do it," Make-up said.

"When we're done with you, you'll hardly recognize yourself," Hair said.

"Well, I—"

"She would love to." Elizabeta made a startled noise. She hadn't heard Gilbert come up behind her. She scowled at him.

"Gilbert, I don't—"

"Yes, you do," he interrupted. "Just play along, Liz," he whispered in her ear before nudging her forward. "She's all yours ladies.

"Wonderful!" Make-up said.

"This is going to be so much fun!" Hair squealed.

"I'm sure," Elizabeta said dryly.

It was nearly seven when she left the Queen of Hearts Suite alone. Alfred and Gilbert had grown tired of waiting for her and had gone downstairs an hour ago. Hair and Make-Up (whose actual names were Beth and Surina) had departed only a few minutes earlier after two exhausting hours of washing, scrubbing, brushing, waxing, and applying what seemed like every bit of make-up under the sun. Still, Elizabeta had to admit that they had done a pretty good job, better than any makeover she had received before. Her hair had never felt so soft. And her make-up was neither garish nor underdone. She looked nice and, if possible, felt a little happier. She had also been surprised at how well her dress fit. How Fayola had figured out her size during the course of a twenty minute conversation she would never know.

Elizabeta was closing the door of the suite when she heard the sound of another door opening behind her. She turned to see Lovino standing in the doorway of the Tea Party Suite, fully dressed for the evening, a look of surprise on his face. Elizabeta felt her cheeks grow warm but then she remembered that she was angry with him. Without a word to him, she started walking towards the elevators. She pushed the elevator button and groaned when she saw that it was on the first floor. She kept her eyes on the elevator when she heard the door close down the hallway and didn't look at Lovino when he joined her at her side. The tension could have been cut with a knife. The elevator was on the sixth floor when he finally spoke up.

"This is stupid."

Elizabeta found herself replying, "The dinner?"

"No, you ignoring me."

"I'm not ignoring you!"

"Then why aren't you talking to me?"

"I just don't feel like talking."

"Usually you never stop talking."

"And usually you're just a jerk."

"You know what, I was actually going to apologize for earlier, but fuck it."

"You apologize? You really expect me to believe that?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Because you're—" Elizabeta suddenly found herself smiling. "Never mind. How do we always end up like this?"

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"We fight, ignore each other, fight again, make-up, and then start fighting again. It's this endless cycle. Is it always going to be this way?"

"It's not my fault you like to argue," Lovino said.

"I do not—" Elizabeta stopped when she saw the tiny smile on his face. "I hate you."

"No you don't."

"Maybe. You look nice, by the way. I'm assuming the suit is courtesy of Fayola."

Lovino frowned. "Yes. This is all so predictably her. She threw my brother and me a birthday party when we turned six. She even chose us matching outfits. She planned everything down to the type of silver wear that we would be using. It was so embarrassing. She loves being in charge and needs to have everything go exactly her way. That's just how she is." He sighed but he didn't seem angry. "I hope you don't think too badly of her. She's one of the few good people I've ever known, for the most part."

"Really? I couldn't tell. If she was so good she wouldn't be making you play in that poker match." Elizabeta looked back at the elevator. "What's taking this thing so long?"

"What the hell? It's back on one."

"You mean we missed the elevator? I didn't even hear it!" Elizabeta pushed the button again. "Maybe it's broken."

It was another ten minutes before they reached the first floor. The ballroom was already filled when they walked in and waiters were distributing the first course to the tables. Elizabeta spotted Gilbert and Alfred sitting at a table near the stage.

"What took you so long?" Gilbert asked when he spotted them. "You look halfway decent though."

"Gilbert, are you blind? She looks amazing," Alfred said.

Elizabeta blushed as she sat down. "Thank you, Alfred. At least someone at this table is a gentleman." She shot Lovino a look but he was busy examining the candles on the table.

"You shouldn't encourage her like that, Al," Gilbert said. "It all goes straight to her head." He turned to Lovino. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"I couldn't exactly refuse the invitation. Trust me, the last thing I want to be doing is sitting here with you."

"The feeling is mutual."

"Okay children, that's enough," Elizabeta said. She grabbed a bread roll from the basket on the table, not realized until that moment that she was starving.

The waiters soon the brought the first course to their table, a delicious thick, creamy soup. While they were eating, the leftmost curtain on the stage was lifted up to reveal a grand piano. A man then walked onto the stage and began to play a pretty piece that made Elizabeta want to dance. The man played throughout the first course and into the second course, switching from the light-hearted tune to a more somber melody. After he was done, the central curtain was raised, revealing a miniature orchestra. Elizabeta couldn't help thinking of Roderich and how he would have loved to be there. She hoped he was alright and wondered if he was writing to her.

"What's on your mind?" Gilbert asked her, pulling her from her thoughts.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You looked all mopey all of a sudden. What, or who, are you thinking about?"

Elizabeta was surprised that he had noticed. So far he'd spent the whole dinner sharing poker "tips" with Alfred and Lovino, who both seemed completely unimpressed. She smiled. Of course Gilbert would notice her worry. There was a reason he was her best friend. "It's nothing, really," she replied. Gilbert looked unconvinced. "Weren't you just saying something about counting cards?" she said, hoping to shift his attention away from her. "Isn't that cheating?"

Gilbert took the bait. "Not if you do it the right way."

"Idiot, there's no legal way to count cards," Lovino said.

"This is why I'm the gambling master and you're just a loudmouth asshole," Gilbert shot back.

This led to another argument. Elizabeta noticed the people at the surrounding tables staring at them. She slumped down in her seat and tried to make herself as small as possible. The only one who seemed to be truly enjoying themselves was Alfred who was laughing as Gilbert and Lovino traded insults. The shouting finally quieted down when the dessert was brought to their table.

"This is the most amazing ice cream I've ever tasted," Alfred said. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle. "It's like someone took the Star Wars collector's edition DVD box special and made it into ice cream."

"You know, half the stuff that comes out of your mouth makes no sense," Gilbert said.

After the dessert plates had been taken away, the lights in the ballroom were dimmed and the rightmost curtain on the stage was raised. A beautiful woman with long hair red hair stood in front of a microphone. Elizabeta guessed that this was the popular opera singer Leon had spoken of. Elizabeta didn't know much about opera, but as the woman began to sing, she could tell that this wasn't just some average performer. Even Gilbert stopped talking. The whole ballroom was silent; no one spoke, the only sound in the room being the haunting singing of the woman on the stage. Elizabeta was so transfixed by her that she didn't notice Fayola until the woman was standing next to her.

"Are you all enjoying the show?" she whispered, startling everyone at the table.

"Ahhh! A ghost!" Alfred yelled.

"Shhh!" Someone hissed.

Fayola laughed softly. "I'm sorry, did I surprise you? Circe is amazing, isn't she? Her voice is so captivating that you forget everything else. I hate to interrupt but I must borrow Lovino for a bit."

Elizabeta narrowed her eyes. "What for?"

"Just a little talk. Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll bring him back safe and sound."

"It's fine, Elizabeta." Lovino stood up from the table. "I'll be back later." He reached over and squeezed her hand. "Don't worry so much."

She gave him a small smile. "Yeah…Okay, see you later then." She watched them weave through the ballroom tables, flanked by the two men from before.

Gilbert leaned over to her. "Was that about?" he whispered.

"I only wish I knew," she said, shuddering as the singer, Circe, hit a particularly high note.

* * *

Fayola led Lovino back to her personal suite. However, this time instead of taking him to the room with the weird artwork, Fayola chose a smaller, plainer room. Unlike the rest of the suite, it had beige walls and cream colored furniture. Lovino also noticed that Fayola's bodyguards didn't follow them into the room. Even though he knew that they were only going to talk, he couldn't help but feel little uneasy when Fayola locked the door behind them.

Fayola sighed. "Finally, some privacy. Bless those two, but sometimes it's nice to just be alone." She smiled at him. "Don't stand there looking so formal. Sit down, put your feet up. But take your shoes off first." There was a carton of cigarettes on the table. Fayola picked it up and took one out. She took a gold lighter out of her pocket and lit it up. "Can I get you anything? Wine? Liquor?" she asked.

Lovino sat down on the couch and pointed at the cigarette in her hand. "I'll take one of those."

Fayola raised an eyebrow but tossed him the carton and the lighter. "Your grandfather would be furious if he was here. He never wanted you to pick up smoking. It really is a disgusting habit. I've been trying to quit for years." She collapsed onto one of the chairs. She seemed old all of a sudden. She was still a handsome woman and it was easy to forget that she was over fifty. She was fifty-five to be exact, if Lovino had his dates correct. "I suppose there are a lot of things your grandfather never wanted you to pick up," Fayola said. There was a hint of sadness in her voice.

Lovino inhaled deeply from the cigarette in his hand. "Like what?"

"No, no spoilers yet." Fayola crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair. "Look at you. You've become such a handsome man. Who would have thought? Is this really the same rude boy who wet his bed until he was eleven?"

Lovino blushed. "S-Shut up! T-That stopped when I was ten! Don't bring up embarrassing stuff like that!" He scowled. "I hope you didn't bring me up here just to reminisce about the past."

"Well, that's only half of it. I want you to tell me what really happened in Palermo; the whole story." Fayola grinned. "But, before we get to that, care to explain what happened in the ballroom?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't be coy. What was it you said? 'Don't worry so much'? And then there was that comforting touch. How sweet. What is your relationship with that girl? Are you in love with her?"

Lovino wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment. "N-N-No way! Are you crazy? H-Her? That's fucking stupid. A-As if I could ever…no fucking way. I just didn't want her to start freaking out like she usually does. That's all it was."

Fayola laughed. "If you say so, darling. If you say so. I just hope you play poker better than you lie."

"I'm not lying!"

"Alright, alright. No need to get so angry. And don't yell so loud. Or else Jean and Marco might break down the door to make sure you're not murdering me in here."

"Well, then don't say such stupid things," Lovino snapped. His face felt like it was on fire.

"Okay, I won't talk about your…'friend' anymore. At least not right now. One more thing before we get to Palermo. You should know, whether you win or lose the poker match, I'm going to help you out. Those threats from before…I didn't mean any of them."

"I know."

Fayola raised an eyebrow. "You knew?"

"Well I hoped," Lovino admitted.

"Will you still represent me in the match?"

"Of course. I already gave you my word."

Fayola smiled. "Thank you. Your grandfather used to brag nonstop about what a gifted poker player you were. I only hope he wasn't exaggerating."

"Grandpa bragging about me? That's hard to believe."

"Believe it. Also I just want to apologize for my overall manner earlier. Working in this business tends to make you very...harsh. But enough of that. Now, let's get to the main event. I want to talk about Palermo. Go on then. Tell me everything."

The uneasy feeling from before was back. This time it was worse. "Those aren't exactly pleasant memories," Lovino said. Fayola only gave him a look that said he wasn't going anywhere until he started talking. "But fine. I guess I'll tell you. I don't know why you want to hear some stupid story. Where should I start?"

Lovino first had to explain how he met Elizabeta. He tried to ignore the knowing smile on Fayola's face and struggled to keep his face composed. As he spoke about the night of the fire, the night where everything had fallen apart, it was as if he was living it once more. Unbidden the images flashed through his mind. He saw the fire traveling up the curtains, he heard the screams as wooden beams collapsed on party guests; he saw Alessandro's face, one eye had been closed and bloody; he remembered the struggle, the gun in his hands, the sound of it going off, and then there was blood everywhere. By the time Lovino finished the story he was halfway through his second cigarette and his hands were shaking. Fayola's face was calm but there was anger in her dark eyes. She didn't say anything for a few minutes and Lovino was grateful. In fact, he would have been happy never to speak again.

Finally Fayola spoke up. "You say you killed Stephano and Alessandro but—"

"I did…I killed them," Lovino interrupted. "There's no 'but'. That's how everyone will see it anyway. They won't care that Lima was on the stairs when it collapsed. Or that Alessandro attacked me first. They're dead and it's my fault." He took another drag from the cigarette.

"Alessandro…" Fayola said the name with a look of disgust. "The only thing good about that boy was his pretty face. Your grandfather never trusted him." This caught Lovino's attention. He hadn't known this. "Roman tried to get Stephano to send him away countless times but Stephano said he couldn't disown his only son. He loved the boy…in his own way."

Lovino's hands shook even worse. "You don't…you don't think Alessandro killed my grandpa, do you?" It was a thought that had crossed his mind half a hundred times before and had kept him awake on many sleepless nights.

"I know for a fact he didn't. He was in London meeting a business partner when your grandfather went missing. I'd been keeping tabs on him for a while. Like your grandfather, I trusted him little."

Lovino frowned. "A business partner in London? I didn't know about this. What type of business?"

"Drugs, but I don't think anything came out of it. Although, I wouldn't know. I stopped having him followed shortly after that. But you know your grandfather's feelings about drugs. Even after he died, Stephano honored him by staying out of that kind of business. If Alessandro had been involved in the drug trade, it would have been almost impossible for him to hide it from his father."

Suddenly Lovino was reminded of a conversation with Elizabeta a week earlier. She had been trying to figure out the connection between Alessandro and Lavinia Crewe. At the time, Lovino had thought little of it. Alessandro had known plenty of people like Lavinia Crewe. He'd even had "friends" in the Russian crime circles. Having outside contacts was nothing uncommon, as long as they weren't from a rival group. Lovino had assumed that Lavinia was just another "friend". She gave Alessandro information when he needed it but that's as far as their relationship went. But now Lovino was beginning to wonder if Lavinia had been more than just a simple contact.

They had only met that once at Lima's party. Lovino had found her pretty and charming, but hadn't really paid much attention to her further than that. He had only gone to the party because Alessandro had more or less begged him to attend. He had spent most of the night alone at the bar. And it was at the bar where he had encountered Lavinia a second time. She had appeared out of nowhere, sliding onto his lap and placing a kiss just under his ear. "Twenty minutes," she whispered before she had walked away. He had been so shocked that he hadn't noticed the piece of paper she had put in his hand until a few seconds later. On the paper had been what he assumed was her hotel address and room number. He had thrown the piece of paper away, too embarrassed to even think of going to meet her. Anyway, Lavinia had been Alessandro's date. She had been pretty, yes, beautiful even, but not beautiful enough to ruin a friendship over.

"You look like you have a lot on your mind," Fayola said, jarring Lovino back to reality.

"What? Oh…yeah. Everything's just became a lot more complicated," he said.

"Was it because of what I said about Alessandro?"

"Yes, it's just…" Had Alessandro really been involved in the drug trade? If so, then why? Money? And how had he kept all his activities such a secret? Lovino wondered if he would ever truly know who Alessandro was. "I can't even begin to explain it. Nothing is making sense right now."

"Well, when it does, don't be afraid to come to me for help." Fayola's eyes were suddenly sad. "How long do you plan on doing this Lovino? How long do you plan to keep on running?"

Lovino frowned. "As long as I have to."

"But why run? You are Roman's grandson. Even as traitor you're still valuable. They might not forgive you, but they won't kill you."

"I doubt that. Things have changed, Fay. And even if they don't kill me I'll be a captive for the rest of my life."

"A captive who will live in luxury. And in time, who knows, maybe you will be forgiven. Whatever the case, it's better than running."

"I…I just can't."

"Is it because of that girl?"

"She saved my life, Fay. You heard the story. She helped me get out. If it wasn't for her, Alessandro would still be shoving lies down my throat, assuming he wouldn't already have killed me. I owe her." The cigarette was a stub in his hand. He dropped it into the ashtray and lit another one. "At first I thought she would be safer without me around. When people are around me bad things happen. So, I pushed her away." Remembering the sadness on Elizabeta's face was like a knife in his chest. "I said horrible things to her. I thought if everyone was so focused on finding me they would ignore her and she could just go back to her normal life. But nothing I did mattered in the end because she's just so stubborn and so…" He sighed. "I just need to make sure that she's okay."

Fayola shook her head. "And you say that you're not in love with her."

"This isn't about love!" Lovino snapped. "It's about repaying a debt. I can't stop running until I know she'll be okay. She had this stupid plan, you know. She wanted to travel around the world and meet her true love. It's like something out of a lame children's fairytale. But you know what, she deserves that happy ending. I want her to have that. It's the least I can do after fucking up her life so bad."

"You really have grown up." Fayola smiled. "When did you become so brave and selfless?"

Lovino's laugh was bitter. "The last thing I am is brave. Someone who was brave wouldn't have ended up in this mess. If I was brave, I would have told the Family right from the start about Grandpa's fuck up and then I would have told them all to fuck off."

Fayola's eyes narrowed. "What fuck up?"

"In the paperwork he left behind before he died. He accidentally named Feliciano as his successor instead of me. That's how I ended up in Palermo in the first place. I assumed you would have known all of this beforehand since you're so good at finding things out and all." Lovino was surprised by the confusion on Fayola's face.

"I knew bits and pieces but not this. So…so you think your grandfather made a _mistake_?"

"Obviously. Why else would he put Feliciano's name down?" Lovino frowned. "What are you getting at here?" Fayola looked to be deep in thought. Suddenly, all the confusion left her face and her eyes seemed to light up.

She smiled widely. "Your grandfather didn't make a mistake with the paperwork, Lovino. You must trust me on this. He put your brother's name down for a reason."

"What are you talking about? Why the hell would he do that?"

"I can't tell you."

Lovino's mouth fell open. "W-What do you mean you can't tell me? You can't just say something like that and not explain it!"

"This is something you have to figure out for yourself, Lovino. Roman made a lot of mistakes in his life, but writing Feliciano's name down on that piece of paper was not one of them."

"Fay, you're seriously pissing me off right now. What the fuck are you talking about?"

Fayola stood up from her chair and hurried the door. She unlocked it and leaned out into the hallway. "Jean! Marco!" The two men appeared a few seconds later. "Please escort Mr. Vargas back to the ballroom." Fayola turned back to Lovino. "You should still be able to catch the last few minutes of the show."

"I'm not leaving until you explain everything!"

Five minutes later, Lovino found himself on the floor outside Fayola's suite. He jumped to his feet and beat his fist angrily against the door. "You can't just toss me out like this, Fay! You old hag! You can't stay in there forever! One way or another I'm going to make you explain what you meant!" Lovino gave the door a hard kick before stomping away.

* * *

When Elizabeta looked over at Gilbert she was surprised to see that his eyes were shining in the candlelight. She leaned towards him and whispered, "Are you crying?"

Gilbert scowled and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Hell no," he hissed. "The smoke from the candles are making my eyes water."

"You don't have to lie, Gilbert. Alfred's not trying to hide it." Even in the dim lighting it was clear Alfred's eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. Elizabeta watched as he blew his nose into the tablecloth.

"Gross," Gilbert said.

Elizabeta glanced at the people at the surrounding tables and saw that Alfred and Gilbert weren't the only two experiencing a lack of control of their emotions. There was hardly a dry eye in the ballroom. It seemed everyone was affected by Circe's haunting melody. Even though Elizabeta didn't understand the song, it was clear that it was one involving deep sadness. She herself had been fighting back tears for the better part of twenty minutes. Suddenly, she didn't think she could stay in the ballroom another minute.

"I'll be back," she whispered to Gilbert. He only nodded; his attention was back on Circe. Elizabeta weaved slowly through the ballroom. She passed one woman who had her hand over her mouth to muffle her sobs. Another man was crying on the shoulder of a woman Elizabeta presumed was his wife. Elizabeta had never seen so many people crying in one place. She remembered that Leon had called the show a once in a lifetime experience. She hadn't thought he meant it like this. When Elizabeta stepped into the hallway and closed the ballroom door behind her she took a deep breath.

"Was it too much for you?" asked a familiar voice. Elizabeta turned to see Lovino walking towards her. Almost immediately the sadness from before was replaced by relief.

"You're alright," she said, smiling.

Lovino gave her a quizzical look. "Is there a reason I wouldn't be?"

Elizabeta shrugged. "You know me, always worrying." She had so many questions to ask but then she remembered how he had reacted earlier and decided to keep them to herself.

Lovino glanced at the ballroom. The echoes of Circe's voice floated into the hallway. "I saw her show a few years back. I remember this song."

"Do you know what it's about? It sounds so sad."

"It's about a woman who lost the man she loved in a war. He died before she could tell him how she felt. The song tells her grief and her regret." Lovino gave her a small smile that made Elizabeta's heart skip a beat. "The message is pretty clear. Don't leave things unsaid because you never know what will happen."

"Oh...I see." Elizabeta's heart was beating so loudly she was surprised Lovino couldn't hear it. "T-That's very sad. I…I, uh, d-didn't know that." She stared at the ground and hoped her face wasn't bright red. "Thanks for explaining." _What's wrong with me?_ _Get ahold of yourself_, she thought.

"You're acting weird," Lovino said.

"W-What are you talking about?" Elizabeta squeaked.

"You haven't asked me about my talk with Fay. Usually that would be the first thing out of your mouth."

Elizabeta frowned. "Weren't you the one who said I should stop pushing my way into your life?"

"Yeah, well I…you see…don't…don't always take everything I say so seriously, okay? Especially when I'm angry." Lovino's cheeks were pink. "I-I don't mind if you ask some questions. Just not too many."

"Really? Okay then, tell me! Did she ask you for another favor? Don't tell me she threatened you again."

"No, nothing like that. I'll tell you everything, but first let's go somewhere a little more private. The concert will be over soon and this area will be packed. There shouldn't be too many people in the Water Gardens." Elizabeta had no idea what the water gardens were but she followed him nonetheless.

The Water Gardens turned out to be a large outdoor enclosure that was filled with beautifully carved water fountains. There were only a small handful of people in the garden so it was easy to find a quiet spot in the corner on a bench next to a fountain featuring a young girl crying on a giant mushroom. Her hands covered her face and water tricked through the spaces between her fingers. Elizabeta listened patiently as Lovino told her about his talk with Fayola. When he was done, she felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on her head.

"So there's a chance that Alessandro was part of the same drug organization as Lavinia," she mused aloud.

"It doesn't make any sense," Lovino said. "At first I thought maybe he was in it for the money, but money was never something Sandro cared too much about. I mean, it was important to him the way it is important to everyone else, but not so much that he would risk being kicked out of the Family. But there's a chance he wasn't involved at all. At least Fay didn't think anything came out of his 'business meeting' in London."

"But that was almost five years ago. You said he was with Lavinia at the party three years ago."

"That's doesn't mean he was involved in the drug organization. Maybe she was just a contact."

"Maybe, but maybe not. I think I should call Arthur."

"Who?"

"He's the detective that was involved in the case I mentioned. The one with Lavinia and Moran."

Lovino narrowed his eyes. "A detective?" he asked suspiciously.

"Don't worry; he's a good guy…sometimes. But he's trustworthy. The last time we spoke he said he would be keeping tabs on Lavinia. Maybe he can get in contact with her. She could help answer some of our questions."

"Why would we need her to do that? How many times do I have to say it? Alessandro is dead. Even if he was part of this drug organization, it doesn't matter anymore."

But Elizabeta did think it mattered. She had learned a lot in the past few weeks about Lavinia and Alessandro. And then there was the cryptic message and this Big Bad Wolf who was supposedly after her. They were like puzzle pieces that were fitting together nice enough but the final picture was still a mystery. Suddenly she remembered the man at the airport in London. She felt a shiver run down her back as she remembered those eyes. They had been eyes full of hatred. _He might not have even been real,_ she thought. _It could have been just a hallucination. Especially considering how tired I was and everything that had just happened. _Yet, these thoughts brought her no comfort. Nothing was what it seemed, that was all she knew for certain.

"I just think it would be a good idea," she said. "Anyway, I have a favor to ask of Arthur. It's too late to call him now but I'll do it first thing tomorrow."

"Well, whatever you have to talk about with wonderful Detective Arthur just make sure you leave me out of it." Was that jealously in his voice or was Elizabeta just hearing what she wanted to hear? Lovino stood up. "We should probably head back to the rooms. I'm sure those two idiots are looking for us."

"So that's all you talked about with Fayola?" Elizabeta asked as they walked towards the doors leading back inside the hotel. "What happened in Palermo, and Alessandro's connection to Lavinia?"

"Yeah, that's it." Elizabeta saw something flicker across Lovino's face but it was gone so fast she wondered if she had imagined it. "We talked a little about the past too, but nothing serious. Fay gets nostalgic a lot." _He's lying,_ Elizabeta thought. She didn't know how she knew, but she was sure that there was something Lovino wasn't telling her. While she couldn't deny that this hurt, she told herself that he wasn't obligated to tell her everything about his life. Everyone was entitled to their own secrets. "Oh, and she said that the threats she made before, about what she would do if I didn't play in the poker match or if I lost, she said she didn't mean those, although I knew that from the start."

This distracted Elizabeta from the pain she was feeling. "Really? Then you don't have to represent her! We can leave!"

"No, I'm still going to play in the match. And I'm going to win."

"What? But why?"

"Because I made Fay a promise. She drives me crazy sometimes, but I guess she's kind of like family. Like a nagging mom, yeah that's her."

"I don't like this at all but I can tell by your face that you're not going to change your mind no matter what I say." Elizabeta sighed. "Well, don't tell this to Gilbert or Alfred. Especially Gilbert."

"Trust me, my lips are sealed."

... ... ...

The next morning, while Alfred and Gilbert were lounging by the pool and Lovino was hiding in his room again, Elizabeta called the emergency cellphone number Arthur had given her the last time they'd seen each other in London.

"Emergency's only," he had said as he wrote the number down on a piece of paper. "I'm sure I don't have to explain to you what an emergency is. This number isn't for when you're bored or lonely and want to talk. It's for life or death situations, when you've tried every other option and you don't know what to do next. If you call me for anything less than that, I promise I will hang up on you."

While her situation wasn't exactly life and death, Elizabeta still counted it as an emergency. She had questions and only Lavinia could answer them. She was only half surprised when she called the number and was informed that it was no longer in service. A private emergency line to Arthur was too good to be true. Elizabeta had no other choice but to go the official route. She spent the next hour on hold with Scotland Yard as her call was transferred. While she waited, she wandered around the suite, discovering a wine cabinet and a door she had originally thought was a closet but actually revealed a foldup bed. _At least I won't have to sleep on the couch anymore_, she thought. Finally, she was informed that her call was being transferred to the desk of Chief Inspector Kirkland.

"Hello?" said an annoyed, unfamiliar voice.

Elizabeta frowned. "Hello, name is Elizabeta Hédeváry. Who is this? I was trying to reach Arth—Chief Inspector Kirkland."

"This is Wang Yao, his secretary. The Chief Inspector is out of town."

Elizabeta felt her heart sink. "Oh, do you know when he'll be back?"

"No."

"Well, this is somewhat of an emergency. Do you have another number I could reach him at?" She heard a noise that sounded like a snort from the other end.

"I wish. That bastard never tells me anything. He just took off, couldn't even leave a note. And of course he doesn't think to call and check up on everything or even ask how I'm dealing with things. I mean how hard is it to call and ask, 'Hey Yao, how's work? I hope it's not too bad. I know I just left without saying anything, leaving you to deal with my superiors and their unending questions, oh, and all the paperwork pertaining to the drug smuggling case which is falling apart as we speak. But yeah, just making sure you're all right. Hang in there.'" The man sighed and Elizabeta had a feeling he had forgotten that she was on the other end of the line. "Damn it, Kirkland. Of all the people I had to be assigned to, why did it have to be you?"

"Um…yes," Elizabeta said, not sure how else to reply.

"Oh, damn. I forgot that you were still there. Did you say your name was Hédeváry? Like from the Rosebury case?"

Elizabeta suppressed a groan. "Yes, Elizabeta Hédeváry, that's me."

"Hmm, alright, if that bastard ever decides to check in, I'll let him know that you called. Although I wouldn't get your hopes up."

"Thank—" The man hung up. "—you." Elizabeta sighed and set her phone down. "That went well," she muttered. So Arthur was gone and no one seemed to know where. Again, she wasn't too surprised. This only furthered her suspicion that something big was happening, or going to happen. It was possible that Arthur was working on another case, but she had her doubts, especially considering what his secretary had about the drug smuggling case unraveling. That was actually more shocking to her than Arthur's disappearance. What could have gone wrong with the case? Had something happened with the list of names Lavinia had provided? Elizabeta shook her head and stood up from the couch. There was no use thinking about any of that until Arthur called her back. _If _ he called her back. At that moment there was really nothing she could do except take the advice Gilbert had given her yesterday. She left her phone on the couch and went to go find her swimsuit.

* * *

Lovino stared up at the ceiling of the room. His hands found the half empty bottle of wine on the bedside table. He brought the bottle to his mouth and took a long drink. He set the bottle clumsily back on the table, almost knocking it over in the process. On the floor next to the bed were two more bottles of wine, although he had finished them hours ago. He had been drinking for the better part of the night, sleeping for only about an hour before his nightmares had jolted him, screaming, awake. But his nightmares were only one reason for his sleeplessness.

Since his talk with Fayola the night before, he had been going over in his mind what she had said about his grandfather. He so wanted to believe that she had been lying but could find no reason for why she would lie. She had never lied to him before. Briefly, he had entertained the idea that Fayola had closer ties with the Family than she let on. Could she perhaps have given him the false information yesterday in order to confuse him and distract him from his objectives? But that thought had made him feel so guilty he had dismissed it almost as soon as it came to his mind.

But, if Fayola had been telling the truth, then the most logical conclusion would be that Lovino's grandfather had purposely intended for him to inherit his role in the Family. His grandfather would have known,_ must_ have known that once Lovino saw Feliciano's name on the papers that he would devise some way to take his brother's place. After all, he'd been bailing Feliciano out of trouble his whole life. Why would that time have been any different? The thought that his grandfather had knowingly condemned him to the life he had always promised to keep him and his brother away from had him almost choking on his anger.

Lovino remembered when he had first received the news that his grandfather was missing, no, not missing, dead. People just didn't go missing in his grandfather's line of work. They were killed and their bodies were never found. At first Lovino had thought it was some sick joke. Roman Vargas couldn't be dead. Men like that didn't die, not like that. Unlike his brother who had cried openly for weeks, Lovino had kept his grief to himself. The tears only came at night when he was sure no one was around. This grief had turned to rage when he had discovered what he had thought was a mistake in the paperwork his grandfather had left behind. For a long time afterwards, he had blamed Roman for all his misfortunes, using his anger to keep the sadness away. However, eventually, the anger had lessened and there were times that Lovino found himself almost forgiving his grandfather for his error. But now…

He sat up and grabbed the neck of the wine bottle. He pulled his arm back and tossed the bottle at the wall. It made a satisfying sound as it smashed against the wall, leaving behind a spray of red wine that looked like blood. Lovino let himself fall back down on the bed. "You bastard," he said through clenched teeth. "You fucking bastard. If you're not dead, if you're still out there somewhere fucking around, you better stay out of sight because if I find you I'll kill you myself. How could you do this to me? You promised. You fucking promised. Four years. I was there for_ four years_. Do you know what I went through?" The first year had been the worst. Every day had been a waking nightmare. The lies he'd had to tell knowing that one slip up could lead to his death, having to learn who he could and couldn't trust, the loneliness…He often wondered how he had survived. Was it truly possible that his grandfather was the reason for all that he had suffered? Lovino fully intended to find out, even if it meant going back to Palermo. Even if it killed him.

* * *

**A/N: **So next chapter will be the poker match and all that loveliness. More Gilbert and Alfred next chapter too. I feel like I really sidelined them in this part. Also more Arthur and Lavinia (you know, of all my OCs in this fic I've grown most attached to her). Those two will be getting up to some mischief in Paris, which means some we'll be seeing some old familiar faces :) Crossing my fingers it doesn't take another four months for me to update! Thank you all for your patience.

-dancer


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